The Battle Of The Crows

I saw a murder of crows this morning,
Hundreds, flying above my head.
Jet black clouds, flapping and cawing,
Swirling in skies of red.

I saw a murder of crows at noon,
Like pilots on a mission.
Ordering, in their loud harsh tune.
The crows were ready in position.

I saw a murder of crows that night,
Maybe ten or more.
I wonder if they won that fight,
Against bad spirits wanting war.

I saw a single crow just then,
He was bruised from head to toe.
He's brave, for fighting in that glen,
At the Battle of the Crows.