Murder is the collective noun for crows. And this collection of crows was having a from the gut shout during my breakfast. I went outside to see what all the commotion was. They were going to and fro, in and out, of the black walnut tree across the street. Bunches of them. I wish I could sit in a tree and yell and yell for no apparent reason.
And look at that bit of blue sky that was there an hour ago. I had photographer's hope, but it's gone now.
