Crows on Corcoran Street
Kristina MacGaffin
June 2007

One block long, framed by Ginko trees
Crows croak at each other slowly
Like old men, complaining of age
They pass the time, in annoyance
On my bike, on the way to work
I turn onto this street
And find myself in the Mezzogiorno
For one brief moment each morning
I am transported
An old lady, in her hat and pearls
Sitting up straight
Slowly pedaling
Listening to the cranky old men
Complaining
I smile

Kristina C. MacGaffin, MSW, FIPA
2015 R Street, NW, Box #10
Washington, DC 20009
202 234 4848 – o
202 234 8408 – fax

http://youtu.be/O2gDFJWhXp8

http://ibsen.nb.no/id/274.0

When we absent ourselves from  presence in this life

When we dwell more on pictures in our minds

It neither matters if they feed our wish for strife

Or whether they  fill  needs  of better kinds.

We know that wish fulfilment   comes  in  dreams

And also in  our fantasies by day

And anxious worry fills our mind with schemes

Guilt and shame  impede us from our play.

Creative thought requires the loss of self,

And needs our emptiness to  plant its gifts

So throw out  selfish fancies for this wealth

We’ll let ourselves be slow so mind can shift

To waste our days in suffering or false pleasure

Will  lose for us this vital, priceless treasure