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