"Autumn Leaves and Ravens" by Rochelle Leya Watts

The trees are bare of leaves
Every red, gold, orange, brown last one of them has been laid to rest
On the bare rocky ground
And now they only await the chill of winter

There stands a woman
Out along one thick branch
Of an old, old tree
Her arms held out to the twilight

In the distance the hush is broken
The sound of flapping wings, like a cackling wind
Rushes down the lane
Stirring up the lifeless leaves
And a shadow of crows pours from the sky

The shadow bulges and moves
In its little forms, losing a few feathers
Here and there
They thump against her body
Surrounding her with a heaving mass of black
Until she is lost from view

Somewhere far off a church bell tolls
Muted clangs echoing in the trees
And the dark fluttering cloud
Mutters in soft caws
Then, one by one
As if it were a puzzle being disassembled
They fly off in different directions

The few remaining, elders one supposes
Orbit in uncertainty
They cannot take her soul with them
Into the next world, as is expected
Because she is already dead