Crows calling
in the deep blue/black, star filled dawn;
invisible among the bare tree crowns and frosted roof tops.
Restless, wrathful
the dark id side of night’s sweet slumber.
A drunken mob fleeing
from what they have done
searching for another.
Fleeing above the here and there house lights,
the glittering pearl sparkle in a black
ocean vast but fading
before the rising tide of morning.
Prairie Beacon 