A Preponderance of Crows

A preponderance of crows in October as if there were nothing else to write about or is it simply that one gives attention in a certain way and so sees crows, so sees this? Somebody - Loren Eiseley perhaps - considered crows analogous to bad memories, but it's not so clear. Are we saying that tricksters cannot always predict the outcome of their play? This morning in the field - two a.m., moonlight redounding off already-thinning frost - a coyote watched me walking south, an energetic furry stillness until the dog drove him back into the forest. Nouns are not destiny though from the sentence's perspective one could be persuaded otherwise. I remember that afternoon (a quarter century gone now), hearing the distant - the unseen - crow's cry and writing the first decent line of poetry I'd written since leaving Europe. And now this, and this writing, as if it - as if I? - never left.