Wingman

Raven.jpg
 

You hijacked a raven today.

Flew low and close to my shoulder 
as I chased the wind down 
a mountain trail.

I know it was you.

I’ve never heard a raven sing 
in quite exactly that
co-conspiratorial tone—
a mischievous
cluck cluck cooing 
that joined my spirit
to play.

You swept in close 
so that I felt your wingtip 
brush my cheek.
A kiss from 
the sky,
from the spirit realm
to the corporeal, 
from a father
to his daughter.

Let’s make a habit of this. 

I’m guessing the ravens don’t mind 
you borrowing their wings
to fly point with me 
in the now.