POEM - A Murder of Crows

Ahead on some patched pavement
Is a black puddle of crows
With invaded eyes,
Huddled with shoulders hitched
In spackled abandonment,
Frozen in a paralysis of unity.
One wing, one bleak vocal bleeding
One mind and one belly –

Surrender is a kind of melting
Wrapped in black puddles’
Passing for survival.

M C Biegner 2004