Dying Innocence

A young crow carries them- selves meticulously, screening their surroundings. Too wary to engage with others, but always so observant. A golden jewel shines in a parking lot corner. Tempting the young crow’s eyes. Their bill clutches on, fragile by nature, it breaks. Glass shards pierces their tongue, blood cascades on- to the concrete as the jewel dismantles. Remnants of a once pretty rock remain. Lackluster caws transcends to inconspicuous woes through menacing thunder circulating the floaters, ignoring their cries. Drizzles of rain deafening continuous yelp, a dash of salt soaking their insides, their shadow scatters far away.