They langour
Among the powered lines
Anticipating
Anxiously
Their next meal
Roadkill
The captain, some three odd pounds
With a butcher blade beak and
Onyx feathers
Caws and bellows his commands
Swoops
First dibs on a crushed rabbit
Fills his belly
Caws twice again
Satisfied
Leftovers are for his troops
The captain returns to his post
Surveys the asphalt
For his platoons next meal
FRESH, INNOVATIVE, WORK, MATT...YOU HAVE A UNIQUE STYLE THAT I FIND QUITE IMPRESSIVE....SOLID CRAFTING... FJR
Love this, Matt! Unlike your poetic crows, I can never get my fill of 'real' everyday poetry...of which this is a prime example. Great title to boot :) Best wishes. jack
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Solid penning Matt, love nature even this side of it..