The Grief of Crows
Soaring above the bushfire's flames,
astounded crows, blacker than charred
tree trunks, flap spectral wings.
Numb with loss, no caws drone out.
Wind rushes in updrafts from
the smoky heat: to rise as a vengeful spirit,
to hammer at fleeing pinions,
to witness aimless circles above coal black trees,
now absent of rough stick nests.
Suzanne Delaney
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
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