Autumn's crows have fallen out
Solemnly resting on branches barren
Silhouetted in the blushing dawn
Warming their damp feathers
Brooding, chanting their awkward song
In funeral attire, they gawk and morn
The end of Summers sweet berries
Big fat bugs
Bombing windshields
Pranking the squirrels
Backs to the wind
They sit and sulk
Reminiscing on gentle showers
Stealing cookies from drowsy babies
Scintillating flowers
Dark sentinels though they be
No admiration do they seek
They only party with their clique
Sharing a joke now and then
That always ends in loud guffaws
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