A Little Murder

A LITTLE MURDER Eight crows sorted themselves from the background and settled on the wires and naked branches to sing a November song, CAW! Abrupt, like this chill gust of wind mustered from behind the hill. My hand reaches for my collar. CAW! A leaf skirls sideways down the lawn to snag on a nameless bush. CAW! CAW! The little murder has imposed on my moment here when I was thinking of other things: bread milk, impending winter... This inconvenient trip to town interrupted by my fascination for these harbingers dressed in black who look down, waiting, waiting. CAW! They watch me decide to play their game. the sentinel in the top of that isolate persimmon rattles his feathers, adjusts his stance, disinterested as I should be in my quiet evening now focused on things beyond the plans I’ve made. CAW! A lift of wings,   a fumbling for keys, gravel crunches on my way to the car, the door chunks heavy in the silence. I sit, safe for a moment and pull into the night. Copyright Vol Lindsey 2002