Ominous birds

A flock of ominous black birds.
Pecks and rummages on our ancient hearths.
Pecks, pecks.
An ominous feast in our ruined house.
In the rhythm, first slowly, then increase.
It drowns out the sounds of the morning.
Their beaks turn yellow like the teeth of beggars every Sunday in front of the church. with an outstretched hand while they wait for mercy.
If you let them stay, you think they will go away, and those are persistent.
They pretend to be benign.
And they don't care about the fuss that is being made about them.
Ominous black birds flee off from our ancient hearths.
Damn, you and every grain you pecked.