Flight of the Ravens

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.