After doing its errand,
the bird roosted high
in silicon skies
amid cosmic lies.
Ten thousand birds
converged on a planet
as dead as a fire
with no winds to fan it.
The birds cawed on the rock
devoid of life’s breath,
then let out a caw
and let feathers fly.
They pecked at each other
over distasteful rocks,
that on other spheres
would have some form of life.
They decided to quit
this dull, joyless rock,
flew near Jupiter
and met with more corvids.
They determined to fly
onto the wet Earth
with spectacular cries,
and made their way there.
Though the sun stood high,
it was obscured by darkness
as feathers, claws, beaks
ruled in the sky.
People hid in their homes
as the birds tapped on doors,
and children were warned
to hide in their beds.
Men came out with guns,
and were all pecked to death,
their eyeballs were bloodied
as they breathed their last breaths.
No one dared come outside,
lest they be torn apart
by birds that were angry
with a sun blotted out.
The ground swelled with blood
on this darkened dead Earth,
as the corvids did feed
their ravenous hunger.
Windows were broken,
roofs were removed,
curses were spoken,
as chaos ensued.
Attics were nests
for thousands of crows,
as they all did their best
at bringing man low.
The daemons stood silent,
the gods did not speak.
The people were left
to suffer and perish.
Then finally,
thunder did clap
through all of the clamor
that darkened the sky.
A voice spoke loudly:
“My bolt scatters these
magnificent birds
who did their dread work
upon this dead Earth.”
“Hallowed be the blood,
that came from the peckings,
that disemboweled
the denizens of Earth.”
“I scatter these birds,
and cast them aside.
My power does strike
these dark clouds away.”
The sun shone freely
on bones picked clean
by the plague of corvids
that swooped from the skies.
But now they were gone,
to a different sphere,
having served their dread purpose
with gusto and flair.
The thunder god smiled,
and looked at the Earth,
where nothing remained
of civilized life.