It’s true, the omnipresence of metaphor. The thumping overhead is a crow doing goodness knows what on the roof — may be two crows — and metaphor is like that. I know birds landed on the house while I am lying in bed, still naked, writing words as stand-ins for the things I think and see in my mind’s eye — such as the crows on the roof — but we all know these shapes aren’t birds, although they may be thoughts, and that thumping is onomatopoeically putting a sound in your ear that is really your eye running over ink and shooting signals to your gray matter. We all can tell the difference between the paper bird, this crow, and the one thumping on the roof
