By Yash Seyedbagheri
Crows gather on the frozen pond, pecking at the ice. Dinnertime. They peck left and right, cawing, beaks circling their domain.
I clutch hole-ridden mittens, coldness rushing. My sister Nan waits, wanting to know if I found any coins today. Or dollar bills.
The sky shimmers pale blue and white, shadows deepening.
They peck on, cawing intensifying.
“I hear you fellows,” I whisper.
I conjure Nan’s old crooked smile, unfurling with the exchange of bills.
On I walk, wobbling, eyes focused on spaces between tall grass, curving paths. I squint, slow, repeat. Shadows deepen and dance, numbness rising.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His stories, “Soon,” “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” and “Tales From A Communion Line,” have been nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work has been published in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others.
One thought on “Counting Crow”
Poignant and powerful.