Tom Langlands

The Day They Shot The Crows


The crows were dropping 
from the trees
wings broken and flapping
the squawks of a murder
rattling the vacuum
where feathers fall as fast as stones


Bloody
black hollows
in the shagpile snowdrops


The newborn lambs
saw where death had trod
and cried 
with both eyes

If you enjoyed this poetry by Tom Langlands you will also like Bob Beagrie

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