Poem # 2 – 6th March 2014

A scatter of crows scampers across the field

like a sleek posse hunting down a bounty.

 A shotgun crack and they rise

in a broken cluster of petulant calls,

as each blames the others for this intrusion.

They wait patiently,

perched in a glowering  coven

 then descend again

to strut and peck

at the spoils of this newly turned earth.

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