The Raven

From nowhere flies a raven black
that glistens like the night.
He croaks no doom, but perches silent
on a lone streetlight,
A modern bust of Pallas
from which he sees the world,
So proud he takes no notice
of one solitary girl.
The enchanting early morning mist
hides everything but us--
Silent bird and silent girl--
time is meaningless for us.
I stop and stand and stare a while
at this unseeing bird
Then clear my thoughts and shake my head,
feeling quite absurd.

What made me think this bird would care
because we both wore black?

March '01

<-You Told Me . . . My Work Charles Rd. Reflections, March->

When this was on themestream. . . (filler! yay!)
"Another little nothing that I wrote today. Actually, I wrote the first 3 1/2 lines months ago, and finished it today. Back in October, I came to school early, and there were all these black birds standing around (I don't know if they were crows or ravens or blackbirds or what, but they were feathered and looked pretty nifty). One of them flew up and perched on a streetlight, and the effect was quite awesome, what with the mist and bare early morning light. Just thought I'd share."