Thursday | A Taste of Flava

Today I am sitting in my tower, and the rainy season has officially arrived.

All of a sudden, a crow landed on the wire outside my window. He pulled his head so far down into his neck that I could barely see his beak as he turned from side to side.

I told Jessica about the crow sitting outside my tower in the rain. I asked her why he didn’t move over to the cedar tree, where he could be sheltered.

She explained that I was more worried about him being in the rain than he was. His feathers were lying tightly against his body, allowing the rain to slide off instead of soaking in. And by perching on that wire, he could see the entire block—the open sky and everything happening below.

He wasn’t simply sitting in the rain.

He was watching the neighborhood.

That made me think back to my young adulthood, when men were the protectors of the women in their world.

Big Mama.

Auntie May Sue from church.

Auntie Janelle, who lived next door.

The pretty lady at the local coffee shop.

The children.

And, of course, the woman who had truly caught his attention.

Men opened and closed doors.

Men walked closest to the street.

Men sat facing the entrance in restaurants and other public places, staying aware of the people coming and going.

Men walked women to their cars and waited until they were safely inside.

Men walked women all the way to their front doors.

Men were protectors—if you were lucky enough to have those kinds of men around you.

It is funny how one crow, sitting on a wire in the rain outside my tower window, could make me think about how things used to be once upon a time.

Now I am sipping my cowboy coffee and admiring my new crow friend.

I need to give him a name. 😁

From Flava in Her Tower on This Rainy Day
🌻🌧️🐦‍⬛🌧️🌻