This was a Crow Morning.
Misty, hazy, oppressive; as unpromising as one of the dead trees that they like to perch in.
I've been feeling a little hazy and unpromising myself lately with this sticky heat that pushes me down like a fist.
Projects go undone, chores are pushed aside.
But what keeps us going is our hope for something better.
As I walked up the little hill that opens onto a beautiful mountain range, the fog was lifting.
The crows pushed off heavily, and one by one the other birds started to sing.
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