A Murder of Crow Ten in one tree Plotting with the thunder They seem to agree Harbingers of fate perhaps Ten crows in one tree Cawing to beat the rain Calling down above Me Thunder holds them there One, two, three- rolling now Something startles them Circling to another tree The strangled warble grows The thunder fades Rain Thunder rolls Five crows one tree Thunder, off to another tree The tallest in my sight The rain seems to say There'll be no death tonight © 2016 Mark Richard Prime
(The Weaver's Song)