Scavengers
They come.
Dark winged shadows in the sun,
a dozen, two, maybe more on the run.
Winged crows, no, ravens four score
hovering than landing on the earthen floor.
Small birds and squirrels once feeding
scoot away from the sudden heaving
these scavengers in flight
create dismay not delight.
Copyright © Dm Babbit | Year Posted 2018
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