Murder on their mind, they con
-gregate in darker corners, spread
ebony wings over inky secrets. Beaks
streaked in crimson, they caw to
caverned sun, cast shadows on
bleakest sky. What strange glossy
grief gathers in frayed feather and
fallow earth. Flim–shelled birth
long forgotten, they shun this aching
silence, stretch, and let their voices fly.



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2 Responses to Crows

  1. Sara v says:

    Wow, what dark and perfect images you have here! Loved this 🙂 (I love crows…)

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