Virtual crows

The crow's caw defines my dawn
I got this thing again this morning
An itch to scratch into light words
From  many incoming bird sounds
As if they all had started from here.

There are no crows in the internet
Only crow-words  they lustily caw .
The breeze blows on them virtually,
I mean, semantically linking birds.

But a crow defining dawn is for real
And  for a change I hear a real crow
That sits primly on an internet cable
With light leanings towards the road
Suggesting a hiatus from light words.

The crows are not for virtual people
Sitting in dense foliage like cuckoos
That lazily call down rain, waiting for
Crows to make nests for their chicks.
They are ancestors from our vintage
When internet was palm leaf scrolls
They come down yearly for rice balls.