The Carcass and the Crow
A wicked whisper haunts the branches of the ancient willow
Its hushed tones just out of reach
Shushing and blushing the branches lunge forward and bellow backward
Yet beneath the golden blanket lay a carcass
Unrecognizable and foreign
The carrion swells with decay
And stinks of death
A stain of black approaches with the wind
Clapping and snapping and flapping
The carcass remains, unbothered by the approach
“Evermore!” the crow calls out descending into the howling branches
Its claws reach towards the stench and the rot
Devouring what little is left
The crow departs as hurriedly as it approached
Yet again just an ink stain on the horizon
What is left of the carcass will soon be swallowed in fungi
Feasting on the rot and bones
Releasing its spirit back into the lush whirling willow
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Posted Oct 17, 2022, 3:51 PM UTC · edited