Friday, August 24, 2012

The Murder

Twilight's quiet interrupted, pierced by
Screams and cries of countless distant creatures
Gathering together out of sight, yet
With undulating waves of sound announce
Their ominous presence in the valley

The rustling of leaves and wings in restless
Wait, the cacophony growing as each
Moment passes, in anticipation
Until suddenly the sky turns to black
The feathered flight of a murder...of crows

Caren E. Salas

Photo by William Salas
(taken moments after the one from the previous post)


  1. Well if that poem was written here in Queensland, Australia, those black silhouettes would be fruit bats. That's just what our skies look like around sunset as they all come out to hunt for food.

  2. I think I'll take the crows, haha.