The Murder Mystery
My eyes came upon a tree that tried
It tried and tried, but could not fly
No matter how hard it appeared to try
Its branches flapped, its goals were high
Still frozen though, in ground, root high
Over the sound of cold wind whipping by
I hear the rustle of its flapping leaves
And swear I can even hear it cry
Though making desperate effort, it seems
At least at the distance from which I spy
It was the tree that could not fly
From where I stood its leaves were black
Against the steel grey winter sky
Beneath my feet, the ice would crack
Results of the ice storm just flown by
The storm came fast, and came from nowhere
Completely took me by surprise
It lasted minutes, though everywhere
Now completely blanketed with ice
As I continue to walk towards the tree
The tree that, though appeared to try
The tree, the tree that could not fly
I begin to see the roots of its efforts
I begin to see, to understand why
It appears I was not alone in surprise
Thus caught off guard by storm of ice
Now frozen in my tracks, I realize
Like having mistaken maggots for rice
These were not leaves trapped in this ice
The black leaves, as I had originally thought
I had thought they were leaves
But now know they are not
They are wings, black wings,
Now leaves me to believe
They belong to birds
And not to trees
Moving closer again, I now can see
A murder of crows saturate the tree
A thousand strong, maybe two or three
And though they try, they can’t break free
They landed there
To weather the storm
It came so fast
With no alarm
Don’t know for sure, but my hunch is
The storm left them frozen in their tracks
Feet frozen to the barren branches
A murder mystery, now points the facts
Their cries now piercing
This tree may yet fly
Crow wings flapping fiercely
Seeking freedom in the sky
This tug of war
Between birds and tree
Not rope, but ice
Won’t set them free
But suddenly it seems
The tree now cries
Tears now stream
From melting ice
Then, as if the tree gave in
Let go of the rope
Under the pressure, caved in
Just gave up hope
The crows fought hard, finally breaking free
Now blackness reigned
Their shadows cloud
What little sun I see
When the sky had finally cleared
I stood, a witness of mass murder flee
And all that remained
Of a cold and barren, crying tree