Old Boots & Poppy

Promise of the Raven

He rose up onto the dark unsettled sky,

Across the squinted peer of the suns sleepy gaze.

Just a silhouette, and then gone in the shadows.

This brazen warrior of winters shortened days.

What crafty skill, this northern native,

Who hunts his meals from much of mans waste.

Transmitting voices from loved ones now gone,

And speaking in tongues with prophetic grace.

He lives beneath ribbons of the great northern lights,

And he brings to earth, all the past generations.

He is the product of trials, the concentrate of life,

Perched on high in the towering aspens.

He is the diplomat of all those in flight,

Sharing his wisdom with those with less sight.

The guardian and sword from Orion's lofty belt,

The hunter, the talker, and the survivor of night.

So befitting, herein, that I tell you this tale,

For he is the promise and your vision of flight.

Fly now with wings made through Gods loving grace,

And Soar slowly through life with heavens lofty sight.