A brisk wind pulls the rosemary branches
Too hard. A crow so dark it finds itself blue
Sings a taunting melody. Nothing ever sings back.
Snow falls, each one showing the world
Something new. The ground fosters dead things
And waits for rebirth. A girl in a yellow puffer coat
Walks by a fallen bird's nest, she doesn't notice
The boy with the dark hood following
A step too close. If only the sky
Weren't so gray. The rotting aspen seems
To tilt, putting the world on an axis. Silence
Is met with wandering hands as the snow
Pulls all the ambiance into mudded soil.
Only the scuffle of footprints is left to tell
The story of that coldness.
A crow so dark it finds itself blue
Sings a reassuring melody.

Nothing

ever  

sings  

back.