In Black Vestments

Covering the treetops
at dusk,
a congregation of crows
screams murder,
worships the hunt
for scavenged bits.
They never forget a face
or a wrong
no matter how long past
and cannot count to ten.
They just fly
for your eyes.

a poem for dVerse~ Poets Pub


25 thoughts on “In Black Vestments

  1. I believe all is true, but if they count to ten their cousins the Grackles can. And a vocabulary. They write their sounds from tree to tree congregating in patterns, and using tools to open nuts and break down their food. In the sun, the males are iridescent blue much like the indigo bunting (which only appears blue in sunlight but is also black). Loved the poem and the priestly analogy. Well done!

  2. reminds me of how sweet the height of Summer can be in its scintillating rhythmic ride from full shaded leaves to all the seeds surprised…Autumn I suppose who knows but those rows time keeps beneath thickets of weeds,needs and what bleeds from us in bits from inside what must come back home again…enjoyed the imagery very much….thank you


  3. reminds me of the twilight sky…my friend and I were watching bats fly out of old buildings last night on our walk….nice title…bkm

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