Cranes Fly

It was a call like crows

But not those of crows

Even on their most talkative days

When whisked up by winds

When they chitter and churr

It was more musical than crows

Deeper tones balanced by middle notes

From behind the hedgerows

Beyond the browned ancient oaks

Low to the grey horizon

A stretched vee

Approximately formed

Unbalanced, but sharply led

Three, five, seven, nine in clear formation

With forty, fifty, sixty more

Lagging loosely in lines

Heading south

Warning of winter’s coming

Or dragging down

Its icy curtain?

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CLP 01/12/2019