Ravens and Crows

Standing high above the greenery,

Smoke trailing from my lips, I see them:

The first signs of lesser weather; of mist, and rain

And chilled air, ebony wings tucked at their sides.

Unexpectedly they utter a melodic

"Coo. Tok tok coo-oo."

Not the Nevermore! so frequented

By modern poets and gothic transplants.

Beady eyes peer at me, heads tilted,

Feathers and beaks all glistening.

Then come the famous calls, stark,

Startling, triumphant in morning light.

Together, the two fly away, large and unaffected.

They leave me with a blessing.