The Spectators

While journey south I cast my eyes

toward upward glance in gray filled skies

when all at once a random scene

twas tower full of black bird wings

Those crows of height were looking down

their skel'tal perch on traffic sound

the cars the trucks sped quickly by

so far beneath the foul wing high

When overheard their screeching sounds

with much critique they did abound

with views did they begin to say

their judgment now upon display

Why drive like that they questioned there

Why did they turn we're unaware

Why drive so fast they had to know

Why drive that junk so very slow

That ugly car they laughed in glee

the hot rod known for all its speed

the sporty ride made all to stand

the soccer mom in Caravan

And one by one their statements made

cast each black bird a prideful spade

for spectators doth only be

judges of speech completely free

Till one observed with introspect

not one of us doth have respect

we not but one doth drive a car

we only watch from distant far

With much excuse they made their cry

for plenty be the reasons why

they not involved in traffic way

most anyone would know their sway

So quiet 'pon their perch they sat

for moment thought 'bout this and that

deciding then they liked their spot

returned to screeching from their lot