The Raven’s Plight
“Ravens are the birds I’ll miss most when I die. If only the darkness into which we must look were composed of the black light of their limber intelligence. If only we did not have to die at all. Instead, become ravens.”
― The Painted Drum
Summer died that night as Autumn rode in on the last monsoon
Lightning crackled in quivering air as black thunder boomed
and somewhere in the haunted distance, a battered raven cried.
His mate was gone lost her way while flying in the gloom
she took his heart and his soul when she met her doom
he saw her struck and falling from the brilliant electric sky.
He defied the angry wind and circled, back to where she fell
he swooped down to the ground and heard the death knell
and when at last he found, she took her last breath and died.
And the battered raven cried.
Author’s Note: It is believed that ravens mate for life.