Dove and Crow

Are we really so different?

The snow fell gently down in a park
The old Oak Tree sitting at its center
Its branches bare, leaving only bark
And the flutter of black and white feathers

On a leafless branch facing the East
Sat a pure white dove that rivaled the snow
Adjacent, where the Moon's glow ceased
Perched a night black crow hidden in shadow

That gentle dove, innocent and true
So caring, with such a passionate heart
Stained by none of society's views
Its feathers gleamed under the Moon's light

That thoughtful crow, clever and wise
Such insight, with such a logical mind
It knows nothing of meaningless lies
Its feathers as black as an endless void

As the snow fell down from up above
A dark ash rose from far down below
The snow turned the crow white as a dove
The ash turned the dove black as a crow

As they flew away from their own posts
Those beside could not see the difference
For each bird could have been the other's ghost
While they both soared towards the Pale Moon