The Early Morning Announcer

Ponderings from Beaufort St – 23rd May 2013
He sat atop his pinnacle
I really mean
The pinnacle
It was the aerial
From which he spread the word
He puffed his chest
Light glinted on his suit
Polished black and sleek
He cocked a greedy eye
And gripped his post once more
He checked to see
His underlining was neither
To high up, nor to far down
For where his lackey perched
Reflected on him
With everything in place
He lifted his head, opened his mouth
And cawed
I blinked,
He disappeared
He was displeased with his voice
He was a crow after all
Perhaps his underling had crept up
And knocked him of his post
Perhaps he was fed up
With early morning hours
Perhaps there was no news

He wanted to announce.

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