A Winter Legend
Raven drops into the arms of the old growth birch. Wisdom seeks the wise. The birch's eyes, unblinking, gape to the etched line of the horizon. Sleekit wings furl and she perches just long enough to mutter some distinct message, a crabbit warning, a profane blessing in some tongue too old for memory.
The fur at the nape of my neck murmurs, rising up.
She lifts out of the tree's axis in slow agile motion, unfolding, embracing everything. A comprehension that must never be spoken settles into three chambers of my heart. Wings wide, she mounts up and north until soft light covers her, revealing one holy glint of iridescence. A chimera. A rainbow in the black story of her feathers winks as she wheels off, an ink stain into the milkpool of sky.
like cream still warm
from the breast
A visitation in the hush of night.
The stars through the gauze of cloud,
through the haze of too bright street lights
begets your shadowed tracks. A moon guest,
padding ponds of blue, in the dark white.
Trickster, you muse.