To my jaw bebawlthered boy on the morn ‘ter his displeasure

Though you haven’t many tomorrows yet

–futuretalk leaves you cold–

pain marooned unceasing in your jaw

does it seem to last forever?

yet, out of this little pain

will grow some mighty chomps!

O my toothless son!

Your tongue will soon have many friends

grin festooned with many tooths

joys of crunch and clack and chew

Value for value received

The other day, I was walking to work. I heard a tching! and noticed a quarter rolling around on the sidewalk. Looking up, I saw a crow (or a raven?) hopping on the telephone pole. I assume he must have dropped it from above. I picked up the quarter (Nebraska) and continued on to work.

At lunch, there was a (the?) crow hopping around on the steps by the canal. I fed him some of my sandwich. At least 25 cents worth.