With Murder As Its Name

One day I was a witness to a Murder, a gang of crows devouring blood remains of roadkill that some car had torn asunder. A flock of crows, with Murder as its name. For moments I observed these ten or twenty freely pecking nature’s sides with inhumane encircling feast of scavengers with plenty. A flock of crows, with Murder as its name. In contrast to the gray and sullen, rainy sky, I wondered who for this death was to blame? a driver in a car speeding carelessly by or a flock of crows with Murder as its name. 10/1/2022 A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest