These ravens with their black shadows
were perched on a water log.
Under the blue night-
all five in a row,
they were singing.
These ravens
outside of myself.
These ravens,
I've heard stories about them,
caught the reflection
of their blackberry eyes
under the silver moon
on the silver water.
These ravens,
why do they sing for me
when ravens do not sing?
MARINA GIPPS
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-prophesy/
