Words from the archives #14 Crows

Probably the first one I've written that's loosly about Morden since moving there 2 years ago.
More old poems and that, click here WORDS FROM THE ARCHIVES

Crows

The internet said en masse they're called a murda.

I'm murdering time. On the bench in the

common. Sat clocking the crows.

Bossing the green, on the

grass and in the trees,

keeping the parakeets

in check.

They move like a squadron, pepper-

potting across the common.

Communicating in crow

speak. Speaking about

me perhaps.

The internet said they recognise faces, I

wonder if they notice I've been

reading this book for the

last 6 weeks.

Yesterday I experimented, got in amongst them on the grass

with a bag of BBQ Hula Hoops. Within a few carefully

executed  movements, they surrounded me. I got

scared and did that half fast walk – half

run like I’m trying to clench my bum

cheeks under pressure whilst

walking to catch a bus.

This morning I heard them in the tree outside my house going

mental like pill heads in them 90's warehouse raves

blowing on them plastic horns. On the internet I'd

read about these so called crow courts and I

wondered if that's what all the noise was

when the noise just stopped.

It suddenly occurred to me that the murder might have

murdered and what had that poor crow

done to deserve it?

Sat on the bench again and I’m watching them

watching me, I think they know that I know

something about them. Though maybe

they don’t know that I’m no threat.  
I’m just curious, unemployed and

bored of humans.