Blackbirds
On Halloween morning they came,
cawing and screeching in the trees.
A thousand or more noisy blackbirds
flew in a group of one hundred four or more
from yard to yard they raid as a clustered flight.
The sky grew thick and black with wings
and undulating shrillness dark as night.
A sudden snap or some foreign, unkown noise
forced them high up into the sky
and into the trees with their shrieking sounds.
The familiar little birds, the wrens, sparrows, doves
all hide in low bushes hidden from up above.
As quiet comes, the blackbirds return again
at first high in the oak they flock
dancing on the branches, shaking all the leaves.
Then it appears so obvious, they set the acorns free
a nut of every size and every tree that once could be.
They return down to the ground
with boisterous flapping wings and that cawing sound
flocking down as one before the mid day sun.
From the sun's glowing rays upon their neck
reflects an irridiscent light of blue as they peck.
Then in a flash they rise, up and away to the skies
as quiet begins to return again
and the little ones are at last set free in serach of seed.
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