The Bird of Omen

The bird of omen On the railing of the veranda I sat a raven since I have never seen a white one one can assume it was black. It had yellow eyes but not from the Far East. It flew into my living room walked like a sailor on land leave into the bedroom. Why does a sailor seek a bar, it is because the hustle and bustle ashore makes him nervous and beer is sold. The raven eat a white mouse – my pet- saw how the mouse struggled to get up but it died in a morass of stomach juices. The raven came out nodded thank you and flew off without a word of thank you. I looked up to the sky saw small white clouds doing their own things; to think I had thought it was an omen,