Black Crow,
you carry wishes on your wings,
and secrets of sacredness
hide in your throat.
Shunning arms of oak
to perch upon a corpse’s sigh,
the reds and golds of mystery
become your cloak of madness,
the scent of battle,
your breath of life.
Sovereign Bird of blood and bone,
your sword gives strength to mountains,
and rests the cries of warriors,
still violent with belief,
within Your heart, the Land,
within the Land, Your heart.
~terminallycute, 7/19/06
Terminally Cute 