The flock of ebony crows
Stalking about on stick legs,
Outlined against the starkness
Of the icy frozen pasture
Startled, they take flight
Harsh cawing, as one voice
Wings flapping, ever circling
Riding the unseen air currents
Landing abruptly, heads bobbing
Gangly gait, disgruntled once again
Beady eyes peering suspiciously
At any stray unwary passerby