While walking in Carpinteria,
I felt a presence from the sky.
A life crashed to the ground—
Swoosh, it splattered dead.
I looked into the dark clouds.
Murders of crows were speaking–
cries, squeals, angry barks,
aggressive flapping of wings.
The sky felt heavy and cold.
One of their own had died.
Only crows allowed, they implied.
Its body laying lifeless in the street.
I wanted to stay and pay my respects
but I feared the crows in that instant.
I feared the crows would choose me
to take out their anger and loss
for their fallen brother.