DEATH OF A CROW

Below, on the ground under mango tree

One flailing, turning, gasping for breath

All the local crows congregate, circle

Flurrying, blind, witnessing death



The creature aground is wide eyed

Flips to its back, back to its side

As others poke, bite and strike 

For good old response 


To goad him revive



But he's lost and losing sharply

Gaining more but incapacity

Bewildered, bearing high

Drama, pain and anguish



But 'thout craft or cruelty

Just concerns loud

And wings flapping.