Snow White Cheek – Poem

A flock of blackened crows gather around the one withering, wrinkly red berry,
The last vestige of a fertile fall.
They’ve gathered to fight, to cry, to squawk, to barter, to mourn.
Together, but alone.
The red tears fall, staining the snow white virginal cheek, drying as crusty,
And browning as the last berry of spring’s children.
There’s not enough food, there’s none left out at all, there’s no chance,
Hibernation now a dream.
One by one the sooty feathers drop, scattering their powdery remains,
Across the winter topsoil.
If the strong blizzard winds stay away perhaps the fallen will have a meaning.
Oh, to be dressed all in black.

© Persephone M 23rd December 2011

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