Crows

A murder of crows
On the roofs and power lines
Their wings speak of grief
The ones that came and will come
Death’s own messengers
If one believes the legends
Their eyes seem lifeless
Despite their lively cawing
Scaring the children
Ammunition for nightmares
Though unintended
Their grim reputation holds
An ill-starred stigma
Society abhors them
Harmless they are not!
Inciting men to action
To silence their fears
And those cacophonous beaks
The collective thins
Dies and changes the meaning
A murder of crows

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