Tuesday, December 3, 2013

The Talking Tree

The locust seemed to gather crows,
As if lured by an avian herder;
Welcoming others to form a flock,
It was a blatant, attempted murder.

Some screamed to be heard for miles,
While others clucked under their breath.
A few preened each wing feather,
Then cancelled the Battle of Death.

They called truce with trespassing eagles,
Ignored starlings in a neighboring tree…
Was it all bluff or just crow bravado
Before deciding to leave us be?

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