It is perhaps the flight
Of pain
From the shiny dark
Of a dreary thought
… An island without a beach
Where wandering boats
Have let their anchors
Rust in silence
The Lone Cypress
Has the shape of the ocean
Winds
And the whisper of distant names
It is perhaps
The high noon dreary
They chase away
Under their wings
The raven
PS/ I took this photo in Prescott, Arizona where the raven is a protected species and part of the Native American mythology. I have written about it here: https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-raven-in-native-american-cultures.html
PS/ I took this photo in Prescott, Arizona where the raven is a protected species and part of the Native American mythology. I have written about it here: https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-raven-in-native-american-cultures.html
June 27, 2020
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2020
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