Ravens [Aviery, part II]

Ravens [Aviery, part II]

The crows flock round to have her,
so scared as thrushes sing;
as ravens, rave and gather,
and flurry on the wing

Scurry to the corners,
to spaces in the dark
Safe in the black they mourn her,
the catalyst... the spark

Nestled in nostalgia,
a nest of magpie's things
A pilfered, false valhalla,
piecemeal paper kings

Fishers of a future,
a midas touch, so cursed
Fissures, rough with sutures,
confide in things much worse

as scarecrows line the fields,
their burlap masks belie;
the truths that they might yield,
the lies they would decry

So paranoid, they circle,
the ravens and the crows;
with murmers sworn, they hurtle,
through patterns ploughed in rows

Furrows that they planted,
fields that they ploughed;
furloughed, took for granted,
the things they were allowed

Harvests that they feared,
things they could not keep;
rewards too prized...revered,
returns they would not reap

Crops that circle, overlap,
wings craven, play their part;
whilst shrouded 'neath the course burlap,
beat straw drawn, yellow hearts

Avoiding ravens in the room,
crows cower in the cracks;
with wastelands, do our wings attune,
this aviery... it lacks

Shinies lost in fields past,
in pastures sown in doubt
Regrets as shadows stretch and last,
hopes falling, reaching out

through red motes gathered in the grass,
'midst handfuls of distrust
Sand lost, slipped through the looking glass,
with fear in the dust

Injured, winged, crows go to ground,
stood fast as fisher kings
Whilst ravens flock and fuss around,
... and flurry on the wing