Poetic Justice

On a windy rain-swept day When a murder of crows I see, Their ruffled feathers ragged Sorrowful as they can be. Huddled they perch on roof-tops Gazing mournfully at the sky, No ray of hope the day gives Neither crumbs of morsels dry. They remind me of poets Singed by the rigours of their fate, Peddling hopes for the living Their lives a pitiful wait. That heavens would pour mercy On their weary crucified souls, That fate pen a reversal Of their oft mistaken roles. Decried as stray vagabonds Beseeching alms at corners dark, They are monarchs in disguise Beggared mortals fail to mark. ***********