Black Crows
I watched as they flew home this night
Impoverished as the ground below them
Like an armada dark-sailed, secret,
mysterious, focused and grim
Full stops on the landscape outside
Dark, as if comma'd winged exclamation,
Ripping skies like black crepe paper
Opportunists painted in grey concentration.
taunting the sky with raggedy fingers
Crows draw heavy their charcoal line,
then a moment stop still, to swoop
Never resting before its wail and cry,
Hundred louvres to measure out time
Like doors on their back galling
Glimpses that revealed nothing
Dark demons soar high, then falling
Copyright © Declan Molloy | Year Posted 2015
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