the stark oak tree stands tall and minimal
no longer bearing its leafy foliage.  

instead a lookout post for the black crows
to swagger on, circling and settling like
pirates looking out to sea.

they are motionless in their duty to stand
guard, fearless is the stance they portray.
black statues on this barren podium.

winged form alights at will and swoops
down onto cushioned green, waiting.  but wheels
on gravel disturb and concentration breaks.

flinging its feathered span it shifts leaving the
ground, heading off ……                                       and gone.

nonetheless, the stark oak waits knowingly,
for their return.