a murder of crows
suddenly blacken the desert sky
echoing squaks,
omniscient warnings
what do they imply?
is something coming?
I watch the birds fly by.
A congress of ravens
now flock above me
watchful black eyes
the ravens are wise
What is it that they see?
Something is coming…
I watch the birds fly by.
A wake of vultures
approach and circle overhead
the message is clear
this time, it”s not a sign
I am already dead
Nothing is coming.
I cannot watch the birds fly by.
© By PollutedPoet
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