Black and Barbwire

A single black crow outside my window

beyond steel and barbwire chain.

It is rusted red-brown,

with wings proudly down,

And I stare at them all the same.

What’s behind that fence and that crow on the bench

sitting tense, looking off, I can’t say.

It seems I am eager,

my thoughts merely meager,

to focus on pitch black and grey.

I guess the sun's out if I look all around,

and the ocean is light royal blue.

But my eyes still take me, focusing stalely,

on that grounded blackbird in view.

I guess there is green surrounding the scene,

a deep sway with the branches at play...

But if you asked me listlessly,

Why I stare so intently

On such a bright and beautiful day...

I’d say,

"It’s that barbwire fence

and that blackbird no less,

that kept my brightness at bay!"

Until that bird found another,

flew off with its lover,

and still left me the world in grey...