In front of my living room window,
on a splendid May afternoon, warm and sunny,
a fat black crow rapturously caws over its good fortune.
I watch in morbid fascination
as it tears apart a rodent.
Can’t fault the crow, a natural predator.
It studiously picks away at that small unfortunate animal,
guts torn, splayed.
The next morning, not a morsel left on the street,
not even a bloodstain, I checked.
Russia is tearing apart Ukraine without remorse,
decimating homes, churches, schools, hospitals, piece by piece,
disrupting millions, traumatizing the children,
injuring and killing civilians,
ripping away the guts and sinew
of a once proud sovereign nation.
Soon it too will be left without a morsel
while the world watches from the window.