The black bird

The Black Bird

Among the snarling snowy mountains,

The blackbird whirled in the autumn air.

Chirping upon the charcoal tree,

The little bird settled and sang.

Tunes of love and hope pondered.

Until the blackbird razed out of sight,

Silence masked the pretty melody

As crows screeched with solidarity.

Darkness crept upon feathered creature

Which lay hopeless in the cold night air.

Its feathers immersed with blood and grime

Its soul at rest beyond the veil,

Now it sleeps under the dirt,

Like most who once roamed the world.

Now nothing remains but a heap of dust

Where another already lies, dead.

Kenny Kim