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Flight of the Ravens

Twilight skies reverberate with ravens in anxious flight,
Like shades of ebony in the shadows
When light faints into midnight hues
Blush of amber early evening elegance blotted out,
In a rush of shaggy wings
By a murder of mythical Celtic kings
Who ancient mourn Bran the Blessed
To dance the Celtic myth in flight
Against the gasping day pressed up against
A dark moon rising,
Strident caws haunt young visions and ancient dreams
Absent of the lyric whine of chanted song 
To mourn at the edges of dusk
One raven fallen from the hands of the wind
Into the silent chrysalis of death
Grieving squawks resound as mourners rise
In perfect synchronicity of aerobatic grace 
Leaving bits of string and empty sable pinecones
To ever mark their eulogy.

9-28-22
Contest: A Flock of Birds
Sponsor: Julia Ward

This is based on a true story of a raven in our backyard.

Ravens mourn.  They remember events and also leave gifts.
Bran the Blessed is a Celtic myth about ravens.
In Greek mythology the raven is white.
A flock of ravens is a murder.

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