Behind the Omen

Under the gleam of the midnight moon

wings beat, toiling in the wind.

Caws echo cries of warning.

More join the flock, flying to

their next destination, perching

near a wedding to watch the bouquet

soar. They knew the bride would

be without a husband. Under the rays

of midday sun, wings flap in the breeze.

They don’t bother cawing this time, choosing

instead to watch the procession from the

pine trees. They stay silent, for the family

ignored them the first time anyway.

Soon, they find a child who’d chosen to

feed them, such a rare treasure. The black-winged

beauties visit her every day, bringing gifts to

ease her sorrows. Her brother’s death, her

parents’ divorce, she didn’t deserve.

Maybe she’d heard them after all.

The crows heard her thank them, so strange

a sound when all that’d come their way

were the glares of the family they’d

worked so hard to warn. She’d given

them their final destination, and

their wings needn’t toil, cries needn’t

go unheard, for these were just

misunderstood birds.

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