The Corvidae

The unkindness of Ravens

the great Corvidae

ebony black

come join the affray

a realisation undeniably so

stubborn as Hell

but so in the flow

Hitchcock was able

to frighten them he

Knew clouds of  black birds

most don’t want to see

Crows, Jays and Magpies

Ravens and Rooks

Jackdaws and Choughs

you will see us in books

imaginary and magical

thats who we are

a tangible

asset

some say a star

weighty and pithy

of substance are we

connected

related

in our constancy

a world of contrariness

everyone free

antagonising Farmers

frightening  their wives

protect the great Tower

with all of  our lives

be as diverse

thinking out of the box

inventive and showy

solidarity ROCKS

We are the great scavengers

Noisy as hell

Gutteral croaks

we do that so well.

we all look alike

a dark prophecy

clever and fearless

our mythology

we all have such purpose

a a genuine mind

we can talk

we can walk

wherever we are dined

on grain crops

on insects

birds eggs

sometimes

berries and carrion

raw meat and rhymes

emanate from us

where ever we go

we are the Corvidae

and we all know.

Part of  our  legend

the myth of it all

protecting the tower

Wakefield our call

jubilee, Harris,Gripp and Ricky

Erin and Merlina

and Dear Poppy

thousands of others camping around

in rookeries church towers

tall trees that abound

we are the eminence

well ,placed   And aligned

undeviating

each with a mind

on collecting, detecting

all we can find

pitching and rolling

flutter and shake

break dancing chattering

we are not fake?

blasts gusts and blowing

the winds are our way

fill up our lungs

with effective display

our vital force

and our allotted span

we are enlivened

and together we can

zoom to the heavens

sit atop the stones

at Stonehenge

the Sarsons

wearing the tones

the great resonation

the sentient glare

we are the Corvidae

and all are aware

more like hard hail

than snowflakes for sure

we can fly silent

but there is more

our reverberation

can frighten, it can

acreaming and bellowing

sounds like a pan

being hit with a hammer

a darkening sphere

Black Lead  and burnt cork

calling up fear

enquiring minds

a questioning gaze

our curiosity

it always pays.