this morning #212.

this morning, he stood on the front lawn shivering as he got in his first dose of tobacco for the day. a murder of crows were congregating in the elms across the street. apparently they weren’t into that “flying south” business. he considered what their business was. he’d once heard a news item about crows’ extraordinary intelligence. they friggin' recognize faces. as he took another drag, their cacophony of caws grew to a level that started to freak him out. what if those caws were like a football team yelling chants right before bolting onto the field? soldiers psyching themselves up for battle? he put out his smoke & ducked inside. he was not cool with being pecked to death today.