Jefferson Power

The Old Man and the Crow

"I've got hyper-extensive voice", I blurt out. "You got what?" My bestie, John and I are walking down Boundary street, the sun has not long risen and its a rare moment of quietness in West End. Up ahead stands a solitary wheelie bin with white plastic bags erupting out. A lone crow lands on the green lid and begins to tear at the plastic with its beak.