A Murder of Crows

A Murder of Crows

My breath

does the dance of death

on frosty air,

cools

like the corpse of Summer there

and drifts,

melancholy,

to nothing.

A murder of crows

cooks scandal in skeletal trees

and dusk sulks on the chilly breeze,

stealing sight

and bringing black night

on the back of ghostly grey.

I bury my breath

and say a heartfelt “Kyrie”

that slides along the sharp edge

of the scythe

and turns to ice.

Stars sparkle in frost at my feet

and in the atramentous heights,

shine bright,

light years away and growing old.

When did fire become so cold?

Reviews

[Anand Sehgal]

Stars sparkle in frost at my feet

and in the atramentous heights,

shine bright,

light years away and growing old.

When did fire become so cold?

We never get to see the loss of time as well as the loss of flame ! A harsh truth !
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[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

You used a really good double entendre with the murder of crows. It's fun both because a group of crows is a murder and because it has imagery that conjures up thoughts related to murder in me

[RuthCalderMurphy]

Thank you for reading, Cher. I'm glad you enjoyed it. :-)

[Sami Khalil]

A dark and interesting poem...Thank you for sharing...:).............

[RuthCalderMurphy]

Thank you Sami.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome...:).................

[Sarah Courtney-Dean]

There is so much I like in this poem especially this "A murder of crows cooks scandal in skeletal trees"
Thank you Ruth.

[RuthCalderMurphy]

Thank you Sarah! I love this one, too - it really reflects something of how I feel in the heart of Winter!