Just Another Murder of Crows

JUST ANOTHER MURDER OF CROWS A poem by Ellen Gwaltney Bales All day long he hears them screeching Up in the trees Their raucous cries Their “Scree, scree, screes” He does his best to ignore them To shut out their death call Have they come for him, he wonders In the ever-darkening pall The vile black wings fluttering, Now beating against the sky They’re saying the time has come The time for him to die. Will that be his fate? To feel the evil limbs Envelop him, thumping out their hate Stabbing at his eyes, Make him realize All is not lost Must he pay the cost And the screeching goes on