WHAT’S THE ANSWER (a rift)

(…hats off to Bob Dylan and his song, Blowin’ in the Wind…)

How many revisions must I walk down
searching for the metaphorical crown?
How many seas must a smart-ass seagull skim,
before basking in the tide’s baneful brim?
Yes ‘n’ how many times must a squirrel scream
before I FINALLY get what it means?
The smell of flowers is drifting in the wind,
disrupting the monologue in my mind…

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BRITISH CROWS GO BRAAWK!

When a Crow speaks, it’s a definite page;
Calling all sensitives – time to engage!
The Crow [plisky] untied his shoelaces.
Is this because he doesn’t know faces?
When a Hawk’s near, the Crows KERFUFFLE!
“Get Away,” they scream feathers a-ruffle.
Long lush green grass, dark feathers akimbo;
Two lustrous Crows dance a jammy limbo.
Big Crow lands on my porch rail, silently
And stares at me — quietly — intently.