With feathers as black as midnight,
as dark as shadows that fight against light.
Dodging over clouds, soaring through skies,
looking ahead with fierce, fiery eyes.
This creature I speak of is a crow,
a bird with eyes so wise, I'm sure it knows
all of the secrets this world contains,
and why there is happiness, anger, and pain.
The crow flaps its wings, so powerful and strong
as it caws a harsh, yet pretty song.
It glides to the Earth with a screeching sound.
It snatches a baby bird, and with its beak
the crow bites the bird till you can hear it shriek.
The baby is weak, fighting for breath
until the crow shows the baby bird death.
Once again the crow is out on its flight,
looking down on us at quite a height.
It caws its songs and flaps its wings;
a crow is a very mysterious thing.