To a Raven
Fearless Raven, soaring in
the rich, dark chasm—
that world of shadows, echoes,
cliffs and crags chaotic,
the void of subtle stirrings in
a quintessential midnight—
Make some room for me
on your old, straight wings.
I, too, need to sense
lightning piercing stardust,
galvanizing mountains,
stoking distant thunder.
Let me catch a breath
of your pure, primeval air,
exotic and unshackling
latent, raw, unbounded.
Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2017
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