A Conspiracy of Ravens
Walking to and fro, you see them congregating hither,
While others, perching and patient, watch from over thither.
Not once can you turn away without seeing another;
How their stygian and sickening presence does smother.
At last, when all around has hushed—
A wing against your back has brushed.
A caw over here—a caw over there—a caw everywhere!
‘Don’t you see? These ominous birds always follow me,’ you swear.
Yet who shall believe your rants and rambles?
Mayhap your mind is strangled by brambles?
Shadow-summoning wings thus now fly—
‘Their pursuit ceases never… But why?’
Mimicking your weary curses and gasps,
They are mocking your misery, perhaps?
An endless legion that flutters and taunts—
Your every whereabout it flies and haunts.
Whether on cemetery soil or in a moonlit meadow,
You are the object of their fascination, my fearful fellow.
They croak unto one another now, knowing all that you do not.
Now tell me: Has it been this secret, all along, that you have sought?
Alas, you shall never comprehend
The feathered phantasms that ascend.
Beaks and talons sharp and swift—
Like night-falling shades that shift.
On lampposts, over flickering lamplight, they roost;
Your arising apprehension they have induced.
These ravens tilt their heads and gronk—
Flapping their dark wings whilst they cronk.
Without a word, you run into a canopy of pines;
Yet over the lull, your trembling soul screams, wails, and whines.
Ever-present and spying is the nocturnal conspiracy—
That reveals nothing and relishes its immortal secrecy.
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