The Crow's Grudge

The old crow knows my face and does not like me at all for in the corn filed I threw rocks at him while shouting Caw! Caw! Caw! Now in the mornings he is perched high into the trees watching and waiting for me to get out and leave Once I am outside and walking down the path he dive bombs me hoping for a cut or a scratch I try leaving from the side door but his friends to him warn cawing twice for him to come and together they swarm So now I wear a monkey mask and use a walking stick trying to confuse the crows or give them a whack and hit At last the old crow died his body on the path another crow spotted me staring at him and screamed in wrath A mob of crows flew into the trees and on the branches perched still and quiet they congregated as if they were in church Than all at once a chorus thunder of shrill calls aggravated and scolding tones they warned of a death fall Suddenly the mob of crows launched and disperse shaking and quivering the branches left none the worse So now I can walk freely on the path and go where I need to be but always sensing the stare of angry crows all watching me.