I am Raven,
covered in night,
a blue black shape beneath the pine,
my rich heavy body
possums, deer, birdlings, rats.
Their eyes do not see.
Their hearts do not beat.
I tear their cold flesh
and pick their bones clean.
I take them in,
the life in their meat.
I bite at fading white mist in the air,
the lingering fog of their daemons' breath.
I take in the life of their traveling souls,
a feast of union there on the road.
With one great stroke of my blue black wings
fog and souls disperse. I fly
above the road, beyond the pine,
filled and strong.