Beneath a tree of larkspur and lanterns, the marauder feeds the thin crows home from migration. Tentatively, they undo the ribbons that cinch the fingers from which they take morsels, as their malted feathers bathe in saucers of milk and honey. With a bent tuning fork to his ear and a cup of rainwater delicately balanced upon his head, he whistles quietly to each one and stops their turnkeys until the morning fills their glass bodies with something weaker. Accident insurance investment