Rooks At Dusk

In brooding dusk they gather from the East Arrive in twos and threes upon the trees. Autumn beeches, now devoid of leaves, Begin to darken as the branches heave And teem with animated rooks. And jackdaws too, all jockeying for space, Amid this vibrant, raucous, corvid mass, Jostling, shifting, squabbling for pride of place, To raise their voices, demand attention Speaking freely in this parliament. When sunset beckons they slip the air In charcoal squadrons to the field below Where, in serried ranks along each furrow, They bow and scrape in search of meagre fare For supper and the long dark night. The leader signals, adjourns the meeting – Vast clouds arise, a thousand wings beating, Driven as a single being, Westward To their high swaying roost – murmur greeting, Huddle together against the cold.