The days get shorter, the light fades away
My heart is beating another day.
Black birds they flock,
They caw from tree tops
And fly in swirling
Patterns
What do they speak about?
On our 25th wedding anniversary I looked up and saw 25 crows,
Then more joined until I could not count anymore.
They flew in a swarm, a graceful organized chaotic swarm.
Did they do that knowing I was watching?
mary
Happy Silver Anniversary! =)
ReplyDeleteLove the poem. You are quite the poet.
Thanks for the salutation.
ReplyDeleteI love watching those crows
and trying to describe them.