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Christmas Ravens, a Conversation
The ravens were aboard their wintry nestOn Christmas morning with no-one about.Murmuring so softly as in tranquil rest;A conversation, I had little doubt.
Is that the nest you’ll lay your eggs inA case of only a few short weeks on?Seems early to be of such things thinkin’But summer will see your young fledged and gone.
Till April you’ll reign over all countryOutmastering lowly competitionWho flee and yield beneath your majesty.A soaring black cross in dominion.
A predator, for sure, cruel to some eyes,But you scavenge and clean up our mess too.Is it jet blackness or just your sheer sizeWhich upsets our civilised point of view?
A world without ravens except in zoosWould render yet more tame this land of ours;To some, perhaps, mere incidental news,Just so long as you strut round London’s tower.
So, today, beneath a high conifer(With no awareness of our Christmas day)I listen quietly and hear you conferBut will never understand what you say.
© RM MeyerWinswell Water, Christmas 2019