Black birds they flock

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