Crows

Crows are lined up cooing subsong in the pines,
They click a tune 'bout weaving between phone lines,
They are perched there cawing with their lifelong mate,
With regional accents, they communicate,
It looks to be a scene out of a nightmare,
But it's just a funeral, that's why they're there,
They're studying up on the reason for death,
In effort to preserve their breathing of breath Crows,
they are overly intelligent birds,
That is quite right, crows should be classed as a nerds,
They're pointed, cagey, cunning, they are clever,
Would I mess with a crow, no, I would never,
Crows do not ever forget a bully's face,
They'll warn every crow within a mile's pace,
They'll tell future generations 'bout your brass,
Trust me, the crows do not forgive a trespass.

-Khushi Kaul