Blackbird

A black winged bird sat atop a roof,
Nonchalantly humming its caws and coos.
For there on the street – down yonder it peered,
At the coming of jeers; the walking of fear.

It saluted its foe and hopped to and fro,
Unaware that behind the mask was a heart of gold.
But the blood stained cheeks and pale white hands
Reached out for the bird, thus it succumbed to their demands.

Feathers flew in the wind from the night time air,
A whirlwind of darkness – only the night could compare;
The bird found a place where it could perch and respite,
On the shoulder of a corpse – oh, what a delight!

A chuckle from a mouth that the heavens forbade,
Gave room for the next few words that were said:
"Blackbird, blackbird! Why have you come?
In this unruly hour the night will be undone!
The children on the street are marching one by one,
To innocent to know that a nightmare has begun."

He clasped his hands when he finished his speech,
His shoulders were shaking in delicious relief –
Twitching away until he found his grave,
And he collapsed into the space the world had saved.

A black winged bird sat atop his tombstone,
Nonchalantly whispering its miserable moans.
For in the dirt – down yonder it gazed,
At the child of death; so startlingly amazed that,
The night time sky wrapped away his appearance,
Replacing the horror with a yearly romance.