A Murder of Crows

Dancey
Pointy
Black
Tail bowed
bouncing the high wire

Swooshing
swooping
circling
corralling
Land again

Baubles decorating
the Christmas tree
Fly away again

Calling
cawing
cackling
croaking
Land again

Beading the wire
strings of black
shadow shapes
watching me

Jump a little
Land again
Jiggling the wire
Fly again

Wheeling round
One flock
two then three
now back as one

Land again
Adding
black leaves
to bare branches
as colour drains from their world

Rambunctious
garrulous
don’t
care
about
the traffic
below

Rejoice
in these
last
moments
of
today

We are the crows
We are
messengers
from the dead
Sometimes
we wake the living