Don't Wake Up Or Your...

The old crow that jumped the gun to be the first before the sun
Held no respect for the younger ones among his dialect
His sorry claim was to be staked but his vigil hand they couldn't shake
He had a growing tremble of what the council would soon assemble
A rusted metal voice pleaded with his brothers to sway their weighted choice
But no illumination of a fleeting glance, no hint at the slightest chance
Old crow's words reverberated and bounced back never even contemplated
His turpentine wings showered the trees with the cries for help his pleas
No return was heard, nothing from cricket or bird
An unraveling crow of yarn and seedling shouted more and even screaming
While his brothers sat around him, watching him while he was sleeping.
A darker fear was creeping as the poignant machine continued beeping.