A Council of Crows

Soft pink streaks form across the sky,
No wind stirs this slumbering morn,
The scent of dew floats on the mist,
The world stretching, yawning, re-awakening anew.
All is quiet in the dark forest deep
The clearing still in slumber sleeps,
Before the creatures of the wood awake,
Not a sound, even a hushed breath makes.
Lighter light begins to crawl, creeping 
Forth from the horizon low,
To chase the darkness from the sky
Spreading light where shadows hide.
Noise from the clearing you begin to hear
As dappled light plays hide and seek,
Creatures stir as tummies grumble
The young demand their hunger slaked.
The clearing comes alive as day creatures' rise
The Crows begin to circle on high
Cawing and calling they announce their intentions,
To bring one and all, too many to mention.
The Council of Crows was then brought to order,
The members of six all perched in a row
To discuss business urgent an all quiet is called,
For silence is needed when it's time for the vote. 
The first Crow then opens his beak, and he speaks,
Of feathers so black they shimmer with blue,
Of his voice that's oh so velvety smooth,
Of his beauty and wisdom, he is quite certain,
Surpasses all others, none dare to dispute him.
At first all is quiet, no one utters a sound
As the Crows' words float down to the ground
For no one was certain they'd heard correctly
The Crows' motion he had delivered so deftly.
No second was heard as all looked around
Wondering who'd disagree with this proclamation
That he was the wisest, the blackest and best to be found.
The chipmunks and squirrels began to chatter and moan,
And the birds and the bees flapped and buzzed in a drone,
The deer and the bear loudly snorted and stared,
While the skunk's turned their backs with their tails in the air.
As the council sat waiting, the noise level rose,
The protest was growing, as you would suppose,
To deafening heights the decibels climbed,
The clearing erupting in sounds of wartime.
No matter how long the Crows tried to hush,
The clamoring and squawking of all, including the thrush,
No one would listen to the call, "Come to order!",
As everyone present could not fathom the horror.
Who did these Crows think that they were?
Proclaiming they the most perfect creature by far,
Than all other creatures gathered in the deep forest dark,
Their boasting and bragging seemed quite a lark.
The noise continued all through the day,
The Crows giving up, now flown away, 
But the debate continued down on the ground,
As more creatures gathered from all around.
Each faction believing that they were correct,
In believing that they were the popular sect,
For being declared the wisest and best,
Than all creatures called there by behest.
The skies purple tones herald impending night,
As the night creatures stirred in the gloaming light,
And all the day walkers begin to tire and yawn,
As their bedtime approaches before the next dawn.
What's left of the Council will now soon retire,
For the night and the shadow have crept, the day to expire.
The Owls begin to circle on high,
While the day creatures sing their night lullaby's,
And the Owl Council calls all night creatures nigh.
~Koneta 2017