Murder of the crows

Murder of the crows

The hideous tone spat down from powerlines
Dark birds survey the streets with their honed beadies
Each harbouring the ghost with one eye
The rodents belly pierced and oozy sticky and seedy

They fly and crow simultaneously fright and heck
descending toward a carcass
The death humm springs from the ground as they peck
In the wastelands are the remains of a rotting harvest

These beasts follow the reaper
Unseen fiends without a keeper
Should they be as rain in hell
pouring out of where the devil fell?

A murder of crows winged spirits of unrest
Voracious in appetite the vulture´s rivals
Blood and eyes jump from the night like pests
Beaks and claws scrape and scratch a survival