not many crows in the woods
ravens, yes, plenty of them
gliding overhead and honking their horns
the big black cadillacs of the sky
usually the crows
stay in town
or the edge of town
where they can grab
unattended lunches
discarded bread
anything edible that isn't nailed down
theses woods are
almost wetland
just a thrown stone's distance
from the sea
it is a surprise to see so many
an actual murder
raising a ruckus
and then we see why
a horned owl perched on
a low branch
they surround him
cawing insults and warnings
and when he flies on silent wings,
they ensure his exit is as noisy
as they can make it
Tag: crows
Poem 20160119
uncounted
uncountable wheeling mass
of black birds
so much more
than a murder
more a massacre, really
a huge dark wheel
spinning over the axis
of a bare tree
fortuna, imperatrix mundi
she rises
she falls
her spokes
these black messengers
against a grey sky