Ode On The Murder

One chill November morn I spied a cloud
As black as tar which, perched upon a bough
Nearby, would cackle, caw and cry aloud
Disturbing lines to mock and disavow
All ease. With shining eyes - abyssal spheres,
Such pitch and opaque pearls – they grin
In silent verdict, toying with my peace.
They flit and stalk their way about with spears
For bills and endless shawling wings – therein
The horror reigns and nevermore shall cease.

End.