Old Wisdom - pen and inkThree dark crows,
hunched and huddled in frigid cold,
embers flare briefly in clenched hands
reflecting a fire in dark, tired eyes.
One by one, they toss their butts
and head back inside the bar
where they will preen the snow from their feathers
and share the fabled tales of their youth
where the good guys always win their girl
and live happily ever after.
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