Close to my house, on nearby splintered telephone poles, perch twelve black birds on a wire communicating amongst themselves about the ever-long sun setting wilderness awaiting behind them.


At nightfall these elegant creatures foretell the coming of the blackened eventide.


These sabled aerial souls endlessly alternating conveying between each other as the world revolves around them, neglecting the weather which would suffocates all manner of life around this quiet place. I often pondered what it was like to live on top of the world like these gorgeous black birds did every day.


A nearby flock of blackened birds took up residence near the twelve and began constant communication. Happily chorusing between each other in idiom unlike those strange humans. Yearning towards my upstairs window, I often pondered what they would say, while laughing or singing. Alas I knew that whatever language they spoke they were happy and content with living their simple life. But the exuberant cheerfulness was short lived.


Unknown frightening sounds echo throughout the valley erupting the peaceful chattering winged-fantasies into a frenzy of a cloudless inked onyx; blotting out the sun like it never existed to begin with. Alike a hand came down from heaven and painted the sky a deathly obsidian.


These fair winged tarred beasts rhythmically fluttered until dusk was neigh, escaping the hazardous noise before inhabiting a new wire on the other side of the road, nestled until dusk these twelve black birds rebounded to their original wire, it was a homecoming.


I welcomed them back, acknowledging my appreciation they joyfully chirped amongst each other and alternating between my childish voice of sing song melodies.


It was right outside my window, where I marveled at this spectacular beauty, its where I learned to talk to twelve birds on a wire.

Micah Krahn

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twelve-black-birds-on-a-wire/