Poised

Each day as dusk descends
a motley murder wends
its way across the sky from west to east,
with eager ebon wings
these crassly cawing things
look greedily for scraps on which to feast;

we scurry through the rain
ignoring constant pain
unsettled by the hungry heckling call,
I’ve had my share of grief
don’t need to see a leaf
to know we’re at the apex of the fall.