Crows, by Britta Benson

Crows Ten of you sit like dark angels in the rowan tree’s crown. The other lot moves in. Troublemakers. Family? Council estate drama in three deafening scenes. One: Territorial screeching from both sides. Two: Rooftop strutting, forward, squeal, backward, squawk. Three: Last dance. Last chance. Hissing death eaters own the air. I blink. You’re allContinue reading “Crows, by Britta Benson”

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