Poems About Nothing

All at once we were headed
across feilds of air
to the falling of a shot crow
with light in its wings and space in his lungs
you reap what you sow
and this crow has like us
sowed some chaos
and reaped his own fall

Once you climb far enough to fall
find a limb and kick off dirt
grab a hold to some destiny
and hooked by your shirt
made of flesh and feathers
the air takes your wings with you

And crows take flight.
Screaming in blight and delight.
Messing with the brain
gone quite insane
the pest and the one who assigns value
who’s the real villan?