G.R. Gaus (April 11 1950 / St. Louis)
I watched a Raven glide overhead,
His head he gave a nod,
Rising on the upward draft,
Wings were black and broad.
His mate in line not far behind,
Searching for some prey,
Perhaps enjoying freedom of flight,
On this beautiful, spring day.
Courtship soon will take its course,
A nest firmly woven in place,
High enough to protect from harm,
Limbs strong enough to brace.
Both parents will rear their young,
In turn they supply the food,
These graceful birds mate for life,
Raising on a healthy brood.
The Raven has long been revered,
Intelligent for a bird,
Living up to thirteen years,
Mimicking spoken word.
Often I have dreamed of flight,
The winds would lift me high,
Soaring over the mountain tops,
Above the clouded sky.
Fly close with me oh Raven,
Whisper secrets I must hear,
Chosen ones meant for me,
I’ll hold and cherish dear.
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