Eschewing the Crows

It is the blank stares that
Fix them to their reality -
Stare back too long and you
Become infected by their
Tiny wings and flappings, their
Cacklings all in black. They
Sag and hack, speak
Empty words all brittle and
Inane, They are thin-
Souled the poor things,
Bedraggled and undone  and
I can only watch in
Compassion, then run.
Jemimah Among The Crows
Return to Collections all
next poem