Nine black birds rest upon the tree

A man walks by, and smiles with glee

As one of the nine swoops over his head

And lands by a bush with roses of red


The bird then begins to whistle a tune

A breeze carries in the warm scents of June

A second bird joins the first on the ground

Then away they fly, no longer to be found


A third bird leaves the branch of the tree

He circles above, so tiny to see

The fourth bird flees down path on its way

The man walks on, and the sun fuels the day


Not long after noon, a fifth bird join in

And dances above on the unseen wind

The man squints in gaze, and takes in the sight

Slowly growing eager for the cool dark of night


The sixth bird took to the sky not too late

And quickly was joined by the seventh, his mate

Together the circled, like two birds of prey

As the sun journeyed on to finish the day


So sudden the eight bird took to the sky

Spreading her wings, she let out a cry

Exhausted now, and cool from his sweat

The man sat down and began to regret


The day was done, the night had won

And with the night, a storm had begun

The rain fell fast, and chilled the man’s breath

And now what followed could only mean death


The final black bird leapt from the tree

He glided through rain to where the man would be

The day was long over, and his waiting had paid

He touched down on ground where the man was laid


The long night finally took the storm away

And left behind a brand new day

Nine black birds returned to a tree

Another man walked down the path with glee…


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