Imagination

Alas cawed the crow high on the oak barron branch.

A murder it shall be with a large gathered scene of ominous disparity.

The tall, dark, figured human ambled around the gated entry.

The murder grew intensely amid the darkening clouded skies.

As more and more black silken feathered crows crowded the baron oak, branch,by branch and cawed a continuous chorus.

The tall, lanky human looked up into the murder and mumbled aloud “Yes, a murder I see, in a leafless barron old oak tree”. “But why is it now you call the murder?.”

The leafless old oak, nestled in a precarious place, started to creek as the wind whipped up a bit of a pace.

The tall, lanky human cracked open the crypt with an eerie sounding gush was a vacuum of air.

Ah, now I know the murder was planned well in advance,
As the old demon's soul, ne’r had alf a chance.(Broken English).

The tall, lanky human struck down the demon with a swing o the Lance. Poor sick soul ne’r had a chance.

The tall, lanky fellow looked up at the oak, only to see wisps of feathers and smoke.

Now listen up, as this merely fictional gab and writers rhetoric.

But maybe, just maybe, when you witness a murder of crows, your imagination will be on, from your head to your toes.

And perhaps, just perhaps you notice a tall lanky human too, don't blame yourself for an imagination relapse.🤪

Mgm
01/16/25