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Image for the poem The Murder of Crows

The Murder of Crows

Watching as the feathers fall
Drifting too slowly to the ground
Landing, finally, in the loam  
Blood shining on each separate plume
 
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The family, or what does remain,
Has quick encounters through the years
They gather, a few at a time,
A quick peck and then au revoir
 
Still must preserve the family name
Lock our secrets in the chest
Regrets, dark exits, ancient feuds
Cracking the Crow's emblazoned crest.
Written by crowfly
Published
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