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?
Copyright © Geoffrey Brewer | Year Posted 2018
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