The Crow

The crow slams into the window, drops to the sill, glances at me with embarrassment, then hops onto the mantle.
I've had a bad day, loaded with physical pain but otherwise void of content.
Tears crash to my chest. The crow is watching my reflection in the mantle mirror. I can't stop crying. I am thinking of being in the ER today and the woman in the room next to me who wouldn't stop sobbing. I listened to understand her pain and realized she was crying about a loss.
At first I was annoyed since I was trying to read. When I became aware of my selfishness, I was very ashamed.
Now I am crying with frustration about all I won't be able to fix.
Your eyelashes are sparkling, the crow says, There's glass dancing in your eyes.
I don't have any eyelashes he says, looking in the mirror.
He sighs.
He does a soft shoe in the dust, a small sweeping of tiny steps, a hissing really, then he stops and takes a bow.
The bow is more of a harsh jerk, graceless. The crow blinks at me, but just the once. He wobbles like he's drunk.
I laugh.
Clean up the glass, he says, wake up and smell the coffee!