Symphony

The crows sing a shapeless tune

and the threat envelopes the street in a dusty grey shroud

there are no joyful voices here

there are no delighted sounds

just crows

and their mournful opera

That aria of solitude amongst the throng,

the murder of affection and light

Caw, friends, caw

Shout your defiance to a sky that no longer

reflects you

scream an unvoiced rage at a cloud

or the sun or the ghost of her presence

Caw for you

Caw for those voices lost

Caw for me, too

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