Treachery

Perched on top of a withering tree branch,
it crows
whimsically,
discordantly,
...................as if hurling dark swear words
impudently,
...................with every sound it makes,
ironically,
...................onto those who’ve given it its shelter
...................and fostered its babies
...................with care and caution
...................as if it were their own;
...................it flies around chalking its own course of survival
...................pretending to be dark faced and silver hearted,
...................actually dark faced ‘darker’ hearted,
...................chanting mantras of righteousness and morality
...................which crows like it, buy and sell and celebrate, huddled in togetherness.

Their crafty-ness is a neat craft alright;
the problem is that it isolates and eliminates any form of melody that might have existed.