Susan Mason Scott

Attuning

Too near a crow pecking

digestible stones, seeds,

silver soda tab, a peanut—

the city’s treasures

among cracked asphalt,

his neurons firing,

he’s busy. Unbothered

by rattle and drip,

cars pneumonic,

this place sustains him

and me,

if he recalls

this face,

long masked,

eyes pleading.

My boots resound

his thorny toes and beak,

he flinches, then hackles

like other creatures:

feathers electrify

toil delays

caramel eyes fix.

I wonder if he’s deaf

as the dog I lionize

for acuity of another sense.

How that dog prances

canine clean and clipped

scented coconut or cardamom,

prefers to nose urine

to luxury of lilac’s bloom,

angry foxtails

to caramelized milk of spring grass,

and panics

when I touch. Suddenly

there’s fear in inability to hear

choking car, hornet near,

fractious Jay, creaking limb,

towering mien. I chastise

my thoughtless intrusion

but crow doesn’t flee.

Our feathers relax,

we stare,

black eyes meet blue, he recognizes me.