Sonnet 8 Poem by Alex Fischer

As I look ‘cross the eastern sky of black
I see a flying crow that doth go past
Into a cloud of storm that’s filled with tack
A world so dark does lone bird o’er cast
Flying strong and high this bird do patrol
On a journey to a far distant land
Making us men pay up and take the toll
This world no longer cradled in the hand
A storm form o’er the shadow-ridden world
A threat’ning rage from the ones who so hate
The shadow looms like pallid death to thrive
Now man know not what on this Earth survive