A Crow's Funeral Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A crow falls still, black on the ground,
No chirp, no call, no single sound.

Then others come, a feathered ring,
No song of sadness do they sing.

They watch, they learn, with beady eyes,
Where danger lurks, and how it lies.

A fallen friend, a lesson learned,
A threat revealed, a corner turned.

The flock will kno, the flock will heed,
A safer path, a planted seed.

From loss they build a knowing wall,
Protecting all, preventing fall.