New Year

[ScurryFunger]

Hi, all. This is my second poem posted here. If I am in the wrong forum, sorry! Thank you for reading and critiquing!


New Year

Whiskey-warm and sick of New Years' Eve,
I left the stuffed ones herded by their fires
And trudged along a path of ashen leaves
That cracked and snapped with winter’s snowy choirs.
The ice cursed trees with bones that shook and scraped
The skull-gray skies of rotting winter days
Were wan and mute of vernal song and draped
A cold lament upon my frostsick haze.

The scene was gaunt and dying still
When I had turned to leave
Until I heard a piercing shrill
Cry deep within the trees —

An inky crow shot out of sight
And left me frozen in the night.

ok, firstly right, that icon of yours that moves, it's damn distracting and annoying, no one else does that!

Was this meant to be scottish in persuasion? Cos ole mr Burns (not from the simpsons) would be spinning in his grave. I'ts good to be stuffed on new years, especially if there is an open fire handy to slump in front of.

Do crows come out at night? Inky bats maybe?