The Crows

The crows come in winter
Congregate in my treetops.
Their cawing is quite annoying
They don’t know when to stop.

They land on our roof
Each morning so early.
Their claws dance on the shingles.
Their demeanor is too surly. 

They dig in my flowerpots
Spreading dirt everywhere.
They do what they want
Without seeming to care.

On trash day they swoop
They flock and they sweep
Attacking neighbors’ garbage
For a tasty crow treat.

And if a dead squirrel
Is squashed in the road
The crows make mince meat
Of the flesh, oh so gross!

Go away, nasty black crows
You’re not welcome here!
Go south or go north
Your caws I do fear!

They’re known to be social
And have lots of friends.
When spring finally comes
The annoyance will end.

Please leave your comments below.

Read more by Eileen Creeger.