Seven  Black Crows

Seven black crows drift upon the backdrop of a clear blue sky.

Like small specks of black pepper, cawing out “why, oh why”?

A half moon peeks between the braches of a forest of trees.

The wind whispers in the yawning ear of he who seeks to become free.

Black/ purple storm clouds begin to form on the horizon in the distant west.

Seven black crows alight in a nearby tree, cawing out, “this is only a test”.

The wind picks up, it shouts now in a boisterous tone, for it whispers no more.

The man with the yawning ears turns to the west to face the approaching storm.

The heavens begin to spit liquid words that drench the man who seeks, now drowning his soul.

The seven black crows no longer caw, but scream, “we don’t know…we don’t know”

The treetops bend and sway…the half moon that once smiled now hides in fear.

Yet, unlike the moon, unlike the seven black crows, the man with yawning ears…has no fear.

J. Allen Wilson © 7/30/2009*** A New Day Productions