The Crows

THE CROWS Neath wintry sky the skeletal trees now flex in fretful measure Above and ‘tween black crows convene collected agitation Their factious calls speak of an anxious dark corvine displeasure What do they know? what portent caused unquiet perturbation Have they arcane cognisance hid within their cunning minds That tells of things that only trees and they have yet defined On such a day would deeds of fateful moment come to pass? While given prescience as inferred in ancient divination Or should such signs be granted no more credence than dice cast Accorded scorn as merited by current news narration Yet who’s to say - life has no ken beyond what we suppose We see the past in trees, could we learn future from the crows?