Why heal when you can count crows?

one, two, three, go

Outside of my window the crow caws twice. It sounds louder than usual even though the window is shut; loud enough for me to turn my head and watch as it takes flight off the roof opposite my window. There must be two more around somewhere for I always see them in threes. I still hear the caws. I love those kindred raspy vocals that I long to decipher.

To…