The Murder [Kyoka]

a murder of crows
congregates on the concrete,
and I feel angst.
sure, I’m smarter than a crow…
but smarter than the murder?

POEM: Crow in a Combative Stance

metallic beak —
rough striations worn smooth
like rough iron, burnished

feet planted wide–
one fore & one back,
in a combative stance

head low —
beak pointed accusatorily,
swiveling to resettle the eye

then, with flapping wings,

it’s gone

Posted on July 10, 2020 by B Gourley

There’s a crow outside my window.
Can it see me through the muslin?
Could its feathered form be winnowed —
spirits shed by baker’s dozens

until remained only a faint dot?
Does it ask the same of me, or not?