…
They gather
(premeditated)
and perhaps we’d rather dis
-remember that their hearts
(and wings)
are black, that their claws
(and caws)
are clacked against these
live wires like tight
-ropes hanging.
They chatter
(guilty, guilty
………..as sin)
clatter-clamor for broken
skin and bright blue skies
where feathered things
might find more than
darkness.
We’d matter
(more or less)
to them if we spelled our
-selves in ancient letters
etched on canyon walls
or quiet storms. Flight
only knows its own sting,
the conviction of current,
the lonely call of one
too many in a momentary
……………..swarm.
..
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Wow Wow WOW! Oh this is delicious and rich! Why aren’t you published!? Quit fooloing around with this blog and getreal, De!
You are THAT good!
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That is wonderful. Remember though – “It’s not a murder of crows…. unless there’s probable caws!”