Shrug

That day I walked from my lovely home, along the small roads, onto the wide expanses of fields, just tilled, birds wheeling across the sky, hunting for food in between the clods of earth

dipping, diving, down, deep into the soil

finding insects, worms and left behind seeds

crowing about their finds

as I wandered along the verge, stomping down nettles and weeds,

just out of control plants that the plough can't reach, and that

lets walkers traipse alongside the birds, the deer and the swirling wind

I look back at the crow nearest, and it looks back

and shrugs

nonchalant

observing, considering, head turns away, and back,

and lets out a 'caw' and lifts off the ground, in a hop

landing a few feet further away, 

and continues