six of crows | day 13 | freewrite

a ripple of black perches on the church steeple a lonesome crow, inky feathers fall to the streets below

he's joined by another, who holds a metal ring in her beak and adds it to her stolen shrine a pile of trinkets that shine

a third joins the group, followed by a fourth and fifth under the bell they gather round midnight toll has yet to sound

the sixth crow arrives at last, cawing bloody triumph for together they are six crows and where they are, death follows.