CROWS

The Seer divines

The darkness of the warp.

Through the mist

A familiar visitation:

A murder of crows.

Waiting over fields,

In trees, on streetlamps.

A fertile imagination.

A spectre of power.

A magus alone.

And somewhere between

The detail and the whole,

An ebb and flow

Of thoughts and feelings,

And formidable self control.