2022
Omen k at h l e e n a p o n i c k
—before the Pandemic of 2020
They appeared mid-winter— a congregation of crows by the river, thousands alighting in the trees— a murmuration some call it. We were caught up in the spectacle— birds coming from every direction, cawing, flapping, leaping-frogging among the trees the way they do. Standing on the snowy riverbanks of Lawrence we were like figures in a painting by Breughel, entranced captives looking up into the trees. We noticed some birds seemed related, like members of a human tribe. At times, these separate flocks flew off returning later to the chattering mass. Were they looking for new roosting sites, coming back knowing there is safety-in-numbers? But wasn’t there danger, too, imminent if an enemy infiltrated? Snow light dimmed, it was getting late. I felt a chill settle in as we began to leave, changed in ways still hard to describe, as if we’d already entered an altered world.
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The Lowell Review
