Maine Morning

A mist has enclosed the yard.
Four crows stride about, clacking bills 
as they stalk wet grass.

I am wondering what attracts them.

Then one bends down,
turns its head for one eye to inspect,
straightens up, and strikes.

It pulls up a long nightcrawler 
and lays it down
to snip it into edible bits.

Other crows don't even look on.

They are quite polite,
better schooled than resident gulls.
Gulls fight over anything found.

Crows, it seems, are less human than gulls.