Caw Caw Phony

The cacophony of cawing crows
raise the trivial to the level of important
wasting their limited intelligence of happenstance
as self-appointed sooth sayers of society
and poison the morning air with their vile vocalizations.

I dream of ridding the landscape of these vermin
whenever their screeching sounds disturbs my slumber
in what is nothing but a fantasy of a murder of crows
who learn their lesson thanks to the back end of my boot.

And as quickly as it starts, it ends
leaving the morning air stillborn and serene
except for the lingering echoes of their poisoning pandemonium
leaving me no choice but to listen for their inevitable return.