In the night I look for a crow song
That may be lying in its darkness.
It is a 404 error in a night’s pages.
But I have my yearly crow visitors.
They come for rice balls on a wall
For mom and her mother-in-law.
But crows on the wall hardly sing,
Their throats hoarse with deaths.
The crows have migrated illegally
After street rubbish has vanished
To keep poverty busy until night
And no crows are allowed in day.
We may replace them by cuckoos
But they do not pick up rice balls
And they only sing a mango song.