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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It’s late in the morning the squirrels have let me know Its time for their breakfast, peanuts on the side porch On the railings near where the old Olive tree grows There they stand fussing and staring at the window Near the fence within sight of the kitchen just below But for weeks now I have wondered where are the crows? Where are the squawking sounds of those three I have not seen or heard them and wonder where could they be Black feathers in the morning but not now in the boroughs or trees So each day in the mornings I wonder where is my Murder of Crows I am fearful that some builder someone nearby have been Annoyed by the early sound of their calls in the morning Wandering about as they are cracking nuts shells on the roof Now by the shed I just heard the strong sound of his claws I see only him and so that is why there been this quiet pause Over and over the years I have hear his strong demanding caws Followed by his wife of many years and a daughter or son Who get older find a mate and move to a new tree far from guns Safe from the hawks and owls they all live in the woods and leaves But now I see him all alone a widower and I suspect that he grieves And seeing him finally so alone on the shed this I know His family is gone from an owl or man, those murderers of crows He is back cawing away alone watching me come and go Does he know there is family for him here for I care And will be here with peanuts and dried fruit today and tomorrow
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