Crows Feet

Gun drawn, trigger finger tense
My spawn is hungry 
The song of a crow atop my fence 
.22 long rifle broken sights 
The lawn has grown high and dense 
A bond between us 
So wrong, no defense 
The crows fond of my crows feet
I am hunting, he is shot down 
For fun and to eat 
I point my gun down 
I feel my finger ease
The song of a baby crow rings 
My son and I pick some veggies

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