Fluttering wings
Nervous feet shifting
Ear shattering noise
Reaching its pitch
Only the bleating of the mother
An obstacle to a feast
Upon the innocent
That which has fallen
Deserted by the flock
As it lay bare upon the ground
Before the masses
Ready to pounce
Yet the sheep call out
As the crows gather
Drawing closer
~
Momentarily the ewe stirs
Clumsily it stands
Awakening from unconsciousness
In its zeal she has fallen
No longer stunned
Returning to the waiting flock
Crows gasping in despair
At the loss
Quelling the fever of the pitch
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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