Black Crows

I watched as they flew home this night Impoverished as the ground below them Like an armada dark-sailed, secret, mysterious, focused and grim Full stops on the landscape outside Dark, as if comma'd winged exclamation, Ripping skies like black crepe paper Opportunists painted in grey concentration. taunting the sky with raggedy fingers Crows draw heavy their charcoal line, then a moment stop still, to swoop Never resting before its wail and cry, Hundred louvres to measure out time Like doors on their back galling Glimpses that revealed nothing Dark demons soar high, then falling