Whispering willows.

Trees full of corvids imitating human voices.

Cooing, talking spirits.

Ghosts made of shiny feathered mischief makers. Invisible under the purple sky.

I lay silently on the grass, fearless. Careless.

Because I know these little critters.

They come to me for bread and seeds in the mornings and say the same things as they do in the night.

I do not fear these flighty ghosts. Floating on the murderous air between large groups of crows.

A conspiracy whispered on the breath of ravens.

Whooshing wind and rustling leaves carry the voices of arguing trees.

END

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Note - Animal group names:

A Murder of crows

A Conspiracy of ravens