“A Murder” By Ruth Bavetta

.

A Murder

Crescendo of crows, sinister
as black umbrellas preening

around an open grave, conclave
of shadows, damascene of dark.

Where gilded flickers filled the air,
there is only this enormous darkness.

Trees no longer brimmed
with tanagers or thrashers.

The hills have burned. Quail
and mockingbirds

have not returned. Soon
night will be the only color.

.

About the Author: Ruth Bavetta writes at a messy desk overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Her poems have appeared in Rattle, Nimrod, Tar River Review, North American Review and many other journals and anthologies. Her books are Fugitive Pigments (FutureCycle Press, 2013) Embers on the Stairs (Moontide Press, 2014,) Flour Water Salt (FutureCycle Press, 2016.) and No Longer at This Address (Aldritch Books 2017.) She likes the light on November afternoons, the music of Stravinsky, the smell of the ocean. She hates pretense, fundamentalism and sauerkraut.

Image Credit: close up from “Fish Crow” by John James Audubon