circling they fly across september

blood red council of crows

hand in hand we lie stubble scraping

watching the portents

formation mirroring our own outstretched arms

touching the horizon gathering the harvest

annunciations of plenty

we declare the heavens open for business

we declare the heavens open for feasting

between the trees beneath the crows

we plight our troth we hold our tongues

there are no words left

we have eaten them all