Twas a murder of crows,
That served my alarm,
That early Tuesday morn-
I got only snippets,
And tiny tidbits,
From the monstrous swarm.
As I dressed and readied,
And prepared myself,
To face just another day-
Twas a murder of crows,
Whose haunting prose,
Warned of the danger my way.
I stepped from the door,
The cold air crisp-
And chill winds joined in their song-
And the murder of crows,
Plus a cold current's woes,
Urged me to see what was wrong.
Pulling up my collar-
And fixing my coat-
And tying my scarf to a knot-
I ignored the warnings,
the pre-called mournings,
And proceeded with hardly a thought.
But now, I wonder,
If I had stayed,
And heeded their morbid calls,
Would I be hear?
Filled with fear?
My body-
My blood-
Frozen solid in the clutches of winter and fall.

Hope McPeak

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-murder-of-crows-2/