The boy used to wander in the fields around his house.
“Don’t go too far,” his mother would cry.
But the boy used to wander in the fields around his house.
One day he followed the teasing of a crow.
Into the dry hills which climbed like steps
On a magic staircase lit by sun and moon
When the crow abandoned the boy
There was no sun, no moon
Just a rocky seat and a cold, cold wind
“Shhhhhh…..”
“Why did I wander so far from home?”
The boy shivered and wondered
“Who do I think I am to wander so far?”
The boy sat and shivered in that dark place
Until a silent explosion of light broke through
Clouds the boy did not know were lurking in the dark
Light blazed forth and the boy beheld that his hard seat
Was the grand pinnacle of a great high mountain.
“Oooooh….”
Eventually the light was shrouded by the clouds again
And hungry for his mother’s sugar cakes, he thought of home.
The boy left the mountain and climbed down the hills
He promised the crow he would not forget the mountain
As he reentered the fields around his house
And was wrapped in the apron embrace of his mother on the porch
He promised the crow he would not forget the light
“Why did you wander so far from home?” mother asked
The boy tried to explain about the crow, the hills,
The rocky seat, the mountain and the light
But the words did not reach her heart
“Hmmm….”
Mother kept the boy close to home
And frowned when ever he talked to crows
Or sang tuneless melodies about alpine light
“You must go to the town and learn your trade”
“You must please the mayor, the banker and the priest”
“You must never, ever let them hear you talking to the crows.”
So with a sack lunch in his hand
The boy put his feet on the hard road to town
And tried not to hear the complaints of the crow
Behind him in the fields around his house
“Awwwk….”
Now the man works in the market square
Buying and selling but never far from his house
He greets the mayor each morning
Gossips with the banker over lunch
Bows his head and accepts the blessings of the priest
Searching for cheap groceries to take to his wife
Buying and selling but never far from his house
The crow sometimes teases him
Calling from the telephone post
The crow leaves him gleaming white gifts
Which remind the man of small mountains
Drying and crumbling slowly in the sun
