New Year' Eve (2018)

A multi-murder of Crows
with a’fluttering wings
and flapping beaks,
in a dichotomy of whispers
and obstreperous cawing,
both pay me no heed and
annoying me with cavalier
condescension,
as they seem to multiply
exponentially,
like a surreal memorial to
Alfred Hitchcock.

This balmy last day of 2018
with its ebony-speckled sky,
as if this last day is the
“end-of-days.”

As I shout from my balcony,
to this base-natural group;
“It’s New Year’s Eve, you birds,
what have you resolved?”

I’m ignored.

©TP/12/31/18