Counting Crows haiku

I've been writing a haiku every day for years now.  It started as a way to connect with a friend of mine in Australia who was going through a hard time, but now it's become a habit.  Throughout the day snippets and phrases come to me until the time comes to sit down and write one.  Sometimes they're more like tiny journal entries; other times they step headfirst into the mystery that is poetry.

This year I've been playing with the odd series where every day the haiku connects with the day before and leads into the next.  Here's one called...

Counting Crows

One for sorrow, the

      solo flight

      across the sky

like an errant yarn

Two for joy, they spin

      like dervishes,

      chase the last

of the waning light

Three for a wedding,

      the guests all in

      black watch a

hooded moon drift by

Four for a death, the

      murder gathers,

      four and four

and more, all mourning

Five for silver, the

      tarnished precious

      lost in the

moonlight, gone for good

But six for gold, the

      harvest, the

      autumn leaf, the

promise remembered

Then seven for a

      secret not to

      be told, and

yet, tell it they do

Eight for heaven, up

      where the fools dance

      on bridges

made of falling stars

Nine for hell in the

      frozen trees,

      wintered with no

shelter for the night

Ten for the devil,

      when his fiddle

      rings above

the midnight crossroads

And then they fly, the

      counting crows,

      from story to

song and back again