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Corvid Apocalypse



Someday even the crows will lose.
I need to empty my head
and fill it with entirely new things.
I don't even care that much
about calling it "my head."
I love the shadows of the shadowbirds.
Yes, unloved, I still love!
The crows couldn't bear
how lonely the scarecrow looked.
I cherish the memory of a shadow.
I like to think they don't know they will lose.
The trees are okay with it,
so long as something else perches on their branches.
I'll need to fill my head with entirely new crows.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.