This poem is inspired and birthed from Emily Dickinson's Fame is a Fickle Food. When reading her writings, one begins to explore the world of words and not simply words but the enjambment that characterises her writings. This was my humble take on her writing style which also does not shy away from using her analogy of a crow. So here we go with Glory.
Glory is an erratic dune-
Set upon the bank of endeavor
And the beds of patience,
Upon the grave of dread
In my eyes~
Like fame, it's a fickle food
The crows inspect and fly.
But men eat of it and some savour;
While some meet fate and die.
~Purnima