In the dark
The crows assemble

Unhunching shoulders
With glossy shrugs,
Beaks sussing out
Some unwelcome things
Among them.

Half-opening wings,
Not preening
Just quiet fluffing
And subtle shiftings
Of weight;
Almost imperceptible shufflings
In the order of things.

Readying themselves;
Maybe steadying,

For day and light
Then flight.

Copyright 2010 MC Coolidge

4 Responses

  1. Just wait until you get one in your garage and it won’t leave.
    You’ll have more than poetic words about crows!!!

  2. Now, Johnnie boy, what kind of poet would I be if I tried to explain a poem!?

    But, naturally, every poet longs to (even if they resist).

    More than those two non-answers, here’s my real answer. I’m more than appreciative that you even took the time to read the poem. Thanks.

    I hope you have a great Sunday.