A Murder of Crows
Late commers snap beaky throats,
mug with angry complaints.
A gathering
of de-frocked preachers strut
and preen, a tussled foraging,
hustle, and riot.
Up in the branches brothers caw and jeer.
Upheavals come together,
those with more pluck, snatch and pilfer.
Wanton blackouts of carrion crows
crowd my eyes
with their petty, ill-mannered crimes.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment