The gray cloudless sky is strangely silent
As my skeletal arms reach toward heaven
Within my frame of time thoughts are absent
Suddenly, from nowhere there is an ascension
Hundreds of black birds flying synchronized...
So thick that there is barely an inch between
In unison… their aerobatics seem improvised;
Unanimously landing on my crown to convene
Conflicting chatter creates an odd serenade
Each bird is contriving a plan with authority
Apparently a decision to agree has been made
Taking aim at a bountiful place is their priority
A hush remains as flapping wings take flight
Visual traces are now distant from this old oak
Binding roots tie tomorrows to a weary plight
As the silver moon bestows its glowing cloak
2/1/2012