Blackbird

A shadow alights upon my arm
and I look to see a black bird
watching me from a branch
outside my bedroom window
onyx eyes cloaked
by feathers of spilled ink

The somber creature of night
sends an involuntary shiver
skittering up my skin
like a scarab beetle
emerging from the earth

Shoo, I say,
take your omen elsewhere

But then the sunlight reaches out
a warm finger of grace
to stroke the bird's silken head
with an iridescent shimmer
of vivacious greens and purples

That is when I understand
even the darkest blackness
hoards a multitude of colors
deep within its soul
and will willingly give them up
to a single ray of light