Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Robert K. Johnson

       (adapted from Jean Laino’s fairy tale)

All spring and summer
a crow named Alfred
fretted because
he wanted to make
the same sweet music
made by other
kinds of birds,

but even though
he put honey in
his tea every morning,
the only sound
that came out of his beak
was “caw caw caw.”

Then one autumn day
an acorn fell
on Alfred’s head,
and after a moment
he said, “I am a crow
and ‘caw caw caw’
is the music
that crows make.”

Copyright © 2009 by Robert K. Johnson.