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?