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ROOKS AT DUSK | by Messent
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In brooding dusk they gather from the East

Arrive in twos and threes upon the trees.

Autumn beeches, now devoid of leaves,

Begin to darken as the branches heave

And teem with animated rooks.


And jackdaws too, all jockeying for space,

Amid this vibrant, raucous, corvid mass,

Jostling, shifting, squabbling for pride of place,

To raise their voices, demand attention

Speaking freely in this parliament.


When sunset beckons they glide through the air

In charcoal squadrons to the field below

Where, in serried ranks along each furrow,

They bow and scrape in search of meagre fare

For supper and the long cold night.


The leader signals, adjourns the meeting –

Vast clouds arise, a thousand wings beating,

Driven as a single being, Westward

To their high swaying roost – murmur greeting,

Huddle together against the cold.


poem by

Mike Jones

(not a brilliant picture, but it illustrates one aspect of the social activity of rooks)


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Taken on October 12, 2009