wind through the citadel ©️

A telltale sign is blown my way-
upon the wind of a memory string
that started to stray

walking on cottonwood leafed feet
carefully scattered among Acorn seeds
August starts to slowly grieve

For loss of her days-like whining children
passing away-in heated greed of need
they beg her to stay

Undulating green sails float, and sway
waving along, and away
in heated heavy hours of the day
the coven of Ravens have their say-
screeching-cackling as I walk their way -

Boldly they track me-carefully hidden
in Oaken camo perches and dins
calling me tauntingly undaunted
outspoken to each other they be -

Wiccan spirits of death
clothed in satiny high sheens best
feathery indigo robes glow sleek
dancing diving flying in raging repeats
at Vultures and Red Tail Hawks that flee

From an ancient Oak tree
the Citadel stands
imposing it’s will forcefully-on man
overlooking high valleys and lake expanse

in covered dark hollows and Vineyard rows
where the Shannon Ridge Coven roosts high and low
home to the most prolific of Ravens that spin
casting black spirits into the wind

that entertain death by the light of the moon
softly rumbling their black croons
defying life in the night and day
black spirits have their say-

Dark dancers of mood and death
necromancers a black spirits greedy best
Witchly Raven spirits transformed-
that bare curious black eyes stalking me-

peeling them back ridiculously wide
trying to surmise my abilities and design
as if necessary to peer-inside  
haunting me-

feeling if I’m part of their alchemy-
soaring in the quiet so high
drifting slowly down over me

landing onto power lines in a Twilight Dream
where they sit-recharging their minds

as they feel my life force


curiously ~