A Murder Of Crows

The crows ripped
the skies of evening tide
scattered formations,
black cloud wide
their cawing
caaing and calling
their twisting turning
and falling
twig nests like hats,
high up in the trees
crows eye them
and fall away to
glide on a breeze
A child’s frightened looks
at the dark shadows
and their sounds
And senses the horror
as the day darkens
the grounds
As they file past
like mourners
dressed in black row by rows
and his father whispers to her
they say its a murder of crows.

A Murder Of Crows

timbuckley

Muckross Killarney, Ireland

  • Artwork Comments 9

Artwork Comments

  • evon ski
  • mermanda
  • timbuckley
  • Will Vandenberg
  • timbuckley
  • LisaMM
  • Rhenastarr
  • lisameryl
  • SimplyRed
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