Golden neb to beak, obsidian feather to
plume,
Fluffing rut, as shadowed tombstones greyly
loom,
The mating game, danced to wolf´s wailing
howls,
Serenaded by fanged jaws & bloody curdling
jowls.
Beneath clawed talons, the silken worm slithers,
Above, leather-skinned bats, skit hither &
thither,
Within the nest of crawl & old hawthorn
dreams,
The raven sits warm, while plans new schemes.
Moon turned, egg cracked, watched by ebony eye,
Guardian of tombstones, insured for us who die,
Chick, slick-kissed, by blood-moon´s red spittle,
Born in sacred oath & to ancient Lore´s
committal.
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