Knowing she was sad, eleven crows
arrived with gifts: delicate feathers
chips of quartz and granite, short lengths of red
and yellow yarn, crumpled bits of paper
all colorful, some shiny with beef tallow
others sticky and vanilla-scented.
How did they know? she wondered
as they littered her winter green lawn
with their offerings, creating a mosaic
as vibrant
as a Van Gogh night sky
or a Monet meadow.
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