Pallid Skies

When the rain turns to small stones Battering homes with the sour skies Injured apples lay still on the ground Where they fade in a cloudy puddle And resting not to far A black raven peering with its heavy eyes Against a cold fall day as if he knew what I was thinking He pecked and prodded at his wet feathers And watched me walk past Then raised his mighty wings to flight Free without a thought No thoughts of a lover waiting somewhere No thoughts of retched pollution graying his air Close to what he knew Over my head my umbrella, I drew