Vox Populi
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Michael Simms: The Crows
We barely recognized ourselves
But the crows knew
Who we were and where we’d been
Why we returned
Without meaning to
Perhaps they recognized our regret
As theirs, or perhaps it was just
We had changed everything
But our faces
Which we held in place
With effort, not wanting
To admit how wrong we’d been
How far away
~
~~~~
Michael Simms is the founding editor of Vox Populi. His most recent novel is The Blessed Isle (Madville, 2025), and his most recent collection of poems is Jubal Rising (Ragged Sky, 2025).
Poem copyright 2023 Michael Simms. From Strange Meadowlark by Michael Simms (Ragged Sky 2023).
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I love this crow poem. They appeared in one of my recent poems, much to my surprise.
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Thanks, Lisa.
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I love the crows who wait expectantly in the Jacaranda for my evening offering. They sometimes follow Tashi and me on our walks and later fly in large flocks to somewhere west
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Lovely, Barb. Thank you.
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I too love this, and am so grateful that we have learned and are learning more about these amazing birds. The holding our faces in place “with effort” is brilliant. On human trafficking, it’s still stunning to me how frequent is, and not stunning to me that your relative was devastated by it. I am sorry.
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Thank you, Mary.
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in fact i did not regret reading this fine poem.
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Thank you, Saleh.
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Crows know.
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They do.
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Nice, Michael. Especially that graceful ending.
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from Jordan Smith
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Thanks, Jordon.
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Dear Michael,
Beautiful poem, “The Crows.” Also, many thanks for publishing the article on human trafficking. A topic very close to my heart.
Sincerely yours,
Sister Lou Ella
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Thank you, dear Sister Lou Ella. I have a family member who was trafficked. Although she was eventually rescued, the experience destroyed her. So the topic is close to my heart, as well.
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Michael: Th
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I feel the connections all the way through this Crow Poem.I’m aware that crows learn to know and recognize us human creatures, apparentlhy from our faces. And, they will catagorize us as “good” or “bad. This poem, Michael is one of the really good ones. I’ve printed it and will keep on my desk with a few others I use for reference. Thank you!
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Thank you, HC.
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Love this one. What a marvelous tunneling from the opening to that stunning last line. How the crowd become the means of recognition.
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What a fascinating comment, Mike. Thanks!
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Oh I love this. Thanks
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Thank you, Hayden.
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Oh, Michael, that’s just so, so beautiful. What a lovely and melancholy poem. The idea…
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Thank you, Rose Mary!
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A thought-provoking poem. Michael, thanks for sharing!
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Thank you, John. Love your haibun!
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“We had changed everything/But our faces/Which we held in place/With effort” …felt that. The tension from the first word to the push off and flight of “how wrong we’d been/How far away”—words with black feathers. You’ve brought it home again, Michael. Painful and true.
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Thank you, Adam!
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Birds know everything! Beautiful.
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Thank you, Barbara. You are very generous.
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Brevity is the soul of inwit and its agenbite.
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Perfect, Alfred. ‘Again bite of inner wit,’ as they say. Glad to see you’re brushing up on your Kentish dialect.
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What a knowing poem about never quite knowing ourselves and our desires. I really admire this one, Michael.
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Thank you, Bob. I admire your poems greatly.
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Extraordinary the grimness of such a shockingly simple line like –
But the crows knew-
Ominous and beautiful Michael. Thank you.
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Thank you, Noelle.
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The brilliant bittersweet Coda to a sequence that concludes one of my favorite contemporary poetry collections. Yes, crows seem dark angels observing our floundering and bumbling here on the ground. Thank you, Michael.
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Thank you, Richard. When we send a book out into the world, we have no idea whether anyone will read it. I appreciate your generosity.
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”To admit how wrong we’d been / How far away.” Those quiet lines really stung, as the truth must. Thank you.
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Thanks, Kathryn.
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I love crows so much, and ravens, and the whole corvid family. They do know, and they are so intelligent, and I hope to return as crow one day.
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What a beautiful thing to say, Moudi. Thank you.
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The crows do know. Fine poem, direct and powerful.
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Thanks, Marty.
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Beautiful and elegant.
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Thank you, Stephanie.
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Perhaps they recognized our regret
As theirs, or perhaps it was just
We had changed everything
How powerful your line breaks here, Michael — each line its own unit of meaning, but/and the enjambments changing it, so slightly & brilliantly! I can hear a few of them greeting the daylight as I type this –thanking you for the poem!
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Thank you so much, Laure-Anne. Your poems are stars in the firmament.
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I wish I’d said it like that! I agree. Exactly. Love crows and love this poem. )
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Yes, love crows and love regrets.
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I meet this poem as a homecoming. So much to marvel at or with.
My cousin had a pet crow he raised from its nest after it was orphaned. It learned to say Hello Joe, then one day flew off to join a flock of its crow world. But a couple of years later, it flew down to land on my cousin’s shoulder, before flying back up to join its winged companions.
So, don’t sell crows short. They are worth the love. And I know of one who bridged the division between our two halves of the world.
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Great story, Jim. Thank you.
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Your poem inspired a new poem title for me: Return of the Prodigal Human
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Love it!
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I love this, Michael. The crows DO know.
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Thank you, Jan.
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Such a provocative poem, Michael. I love how it invites me to read and reread it, discovering its hidden layers and reverberations.
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Thanks, Christine!
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Lovely. “How far away,” indeed.
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Thanks, Frank!
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I love how this poem invites wonder.
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Thanks, Bill.
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Oh, we wrong too often, but sometimes, at least, we do come back home. Thanks for your poem, Michael.
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Thanks, Luray!
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