What deathly horrors attracts these thousands upon thousands of crows,
When they came there was something in the air that froze.
They veil the sky, drown out all noise, cutting through the vacancy of empty leafless trees,
Never do they fail to arrive, or come quietly one by one,
They come out of nowhere, but to tell the whole city there is no sun.
As they cross under clouds, the ****** increases, seemingly never ending like the dark skies that precede them.
All of Bothell seems to joke with its ever dark skies and black bird cries.