Counting Crows.

The trees are heavy with crows. Saturated...I can't even begin to assign a number..thousands? Yes it's thousands. A dark fluid cloud of 58,000 crows plague the city.  Like a scene from a Hitchcock movie, they swarm in a giant amoeba above the tree tops, snagging on the thick branches now and again.    I crane my neck to the front of the window of the truck to see them circling overhead.  The black long arms of the cloud seem to be performing an incantation rite above the cauldron that is Terre Haute.  Aimlessly, they wander, purposeless, dark and strange.

 

I understand that feeling sometimes, my friends.