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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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Messenger by G.R. Gaus )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
George Gordon Byron
(22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984)
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