Random Crows
It is Winter, I suppose,
But as the weather is, who knows?
A scattering murder of crows
Wings away as daylight goes.
Caught in these woods at sundown
Cawing echoes, surrounding sound,
Marking a spot in memory
As the crows escape over the chimney.
Ebony wings go forth, calling,
It is backward, into the past falling
My mind flys to times appalling
But I try to busy be, Love installing.
Prompt: Think of something relating to Winter and create work informing your audience.
Gratitude
I am thankful:
1. Work for the day is over.
2. I have drinks.
3. My phone.
4. The dogs.
5. Kindle.
I appreciate your visit to Haphazard Creative. If you enjoyed what you saw, please hit the like button. I would be honored if you follow the site, or come back again. Please share this link with friends and family who might enjoy it.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 