Sometimes I imagine I hear them even when the sky is empty.
They must have many places to roost, because the crows who gather in these gray and blue winter evenings are neither daily, nor even weekly, visitors to the tall trees right across the way. When they do assemble, though, hundreds of birds band the branches, and it's thrilling to watch the woods fill up with crows. Arriving boisterously in small mobs, each influx disrupts those who have come before, and black clouds rise and resettle raucously until night finally falls, and the congregation stills.
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They must have many places to roost, because the crows who gather in these gray and blue winter evenings are neither daily, nor even weekly, visitors to the tall trees right across the way. When they do assemble, though, hundreds of birds band the branches, and it's thrilling to watch the woods fill up with crows. Arriving boisterously in small mobs, each influx disrupts those who have come before, and black clouds rise and resettle raucously until night finally falls, and the congregation stills.
I saw a few of their friends hanging out near the river. So much alliteration in this entry- you know I'm loving that. My favorite line is 'Arriving boisterously in small mobs, each influx disrupts those who have come before"
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