Saturday
seven crows: silent
vigil. We
come, one by
one, say sorrowful farewells.
On Sunday: eight crows.
One crow mourns with us
as a lifetime leaves her house
in boxes.
Memories
lost, unless known to
eleven crows.
An allusion, of course, to the traditional rhyme:
Counting Crows
One for sadness, two for mirth;
Three for marriage, four for birth;
Five for laughing, six for crying:
Seven for sickness, eight for dying;
Nine for silver, ten for gold;
Eleven a secret that will never be told.
For NaPoWriMo day 8, this poem is a 6 line shadorma, with a reverse shadorma in the second stanza. The syllable count is 3/5/3/3/7/5. The shadorma was introduced with the fib form yesterday, but I wanted to play with both.
Shawn L. Bird 