crows curse
Farrrrk, farrrrk, farrrrk, fucarrk.
Six crows in the dead gum tree.
What portent there?
Farrrrk, farrrrk, farrrrk, fucarrk.
One gnarled branch turns its head,
Another sidles out.
Seven? Eight?
Farrrrk, farrrrk, farrrrk, fucarrk.
A brittle twiglet snaps;
Rattles to the ground.
Nine, for sure.
Farrrrk, farrrrk, farrrrk, fucarrk.
Heat shimmer. Waiting out. Intent gaze.
Blink.
Farrrrk, farrrrk, farrrrk, fucarrk.
Twenty-seven beats of wing
To count of three -- somewhat syncopated.
Tree recoils with clattering chatter.
Yeah, you beasts. You quit yer raven' on!