He preferred to amble like he was a roaming laggard with purpose. He inherited the phrase from a friend long dead, with whom he shared an affinity for Bukowski. On that day, onlookers would have described him as oblivious, or perhaps careless. Unlike other cotidian days, he had no interest in the mundane goings-on around him. His singular focus rested on the slightest possibility that the crow would seek him out once again. Nestled inside a blue tissue in his pocket was a gold button he’d bought at a bohemian flea market. Next to it was a prepared packet of nuts and dried bits of fruit. 

Despite the sidewalk’s occasional deficiencies, the man mostly kept his head tilted up. He’d learned that accident and providence were equally inscrutable and unforeseeable. He listened for distant echoes that might betray the approach of the crovid he sought. 

The man had all but surrendered hope when a distant call reached his ears. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, unconcerned whether another pedestrian considered him an obstacle. He waited. Not restlessly or annoyingly, like most modern people. He was immobile and unflinching, breathing deeply and evaluating the approaching sound as if his ears were governed by Doppler. 

The crow swooped low, as if it intended to touch the ground. Turning gracefully, it landed and perched atop a wooden fence in need of repair. It pecked at the gray wood beneath it, raised its head, and looked at the man. 

At that moment, a bicyclist approached. “To your left,” he shouted, as if the danger of hitting someone was greater than the risk of seeing the ridiculously tight shorts he wore. 

“You’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk.” The bicyclist turned his head as he sped past. 

“I am not merely standing. I am experiencing.” The man didn’t turn his head as he addressed the cyclist. 

Like most denizens of the area, the cyclist had no idea what the man meant. His vocabulary was stuffed and stocked with practical words, absent metaphors. He shook his head and pedaled faster.  

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out both tissue and packet. Unfolding the tissue, he retrieved the button from its confines and walked across the grass to the fence. He knew better than to seek conversation with the crow directly. Reaching up, he carefully placed the gold button on the rectangular top of one of the posts that allegedly held up the fence. After unrolling it, he upended the packet and poured the nuts and fruit onto the wood next to the button. 

Walking backward without looking behind him, the man stopped when his feet found the sidewalk again. He nodded toward the bird. 

The bird hunched almost imperceptibly, flew effortlessly across, and landed on the boards nearest the post.

“Kraa! Kraa!”

The man smiled as the crow raspily acknowledged the gifts. Its gravelly call was the equivalent of italics and enthusiasm. Pecking studiously, the bird efficiently consumed several nuts and bits of fruit. It turned and stretched its wings like a phoenix. 

“Kraa!” 

The bird pirouetted and used its beak to clasp the button. Hunching again, it flew down toward the ground in the man’s direction, then shot upward above him. 

The man smiled, recognizing that the bird had chosen to dive as an acknowledgment. The gold button prohibited its call. 

Within seconds, the crow disappeared over the crest of the trees, almost as if the sunlight caressing it had rendered it invisible. 

For all who patiently wait for sublime, subdued moments, there is recompense. Perhaps not in the flashy way we are ingrained to seek. The man had learned to notice things, even when unwarranted. 

Before the man turned to traipse away, two argumentative starlings landed like teenagers trying a skateboard trick they had seen but never attempted. In seconds, they devoured the remaining bits. Because the sun graced the skies, the man observed the starlings’ spring iridescence. He wondered how much ultraviolet the birds could actually see. 

They flew off as if governed by misprogrammed GPS. Though they lacked the grace of his most recent friend, the crow, their inelegance had its own beauty. 

Sunlight and success propelled the man back home, as if his feet were supported by a layer of air. His mental to-do list grew by one when he realized he might need more buttons, along with fresh coffee. It was anyone’s guess which would bring more happiness.