The crows call out from
their perch on a crumbling
cupola, looking down with
their beady, suspicious eyes,
puffing their feathers out as
if shrugging off my stare.
They call us out, these harbingers
of  prophecy and revelation. Secrets
are never hidden when viewed from
above, but carried on wings of
distortion and spread by sharp,
cutting tongues.

One thought on “Vigilence

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