Poem

I’m not owning that

one raven for sorrow.

I saw a single raven lurching

through a garden filled with sunset coloured

gnomes, both metal and concrete.

“Hail to The Morrigan,” I said,

as it flew away.

The Goddess reminding me

She is always on the wing,

stepping clawed and beaked

on the Earth,

keeping a black eye on my life.

She might be anger,

She is protection,

but sorrow is not

what we are about,

this Spring day.

*****

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