Photo by Eilis Garvey on Unsplash
A murder of crows march across the low mown field.
A glistening oily patch spreading through the upright gold stalks.
Invading the tranquil scene with their
arguing and shiny selves.
Suddenly quiet, the rabble
points a shield of black beaks,
towards the hawk invaded sky.
Fear wins and a crow flies and flees,
Followed by more, and then all.
Retreating to tree tops,
Seeking asylum.
About the Creator
Terry Roe
Some people paint, others dance, and happy people sing. Writing is the white space that allows me to color some moods, move some thoughts, and hum some tunes.
Comments (1)
❤️📝