To observe a crow is to note the cruel shine on his midnight cloak.
Take heed each tilt of his head and glint of his eyes,
the crow sees all, you know.
To observe a crow is to listen keenly to his piercing call.
He signals to some that death is near,
and warns his brethren to keep alive.
To observe a crow is to watch him with envy in flight.
A darm omen on swift wings he soars,
the familiar of the old gods and messengers of war.
To observe a crow is to know his true role,
a ferry for souls to the land of the dead,
and a predator in the darkened treetops.
To observe a crow is to sit quietly in the wilderness,
pen at the ready and ink to spare.
He is beauty, and he knows it, he will preen.
To observe a crow is to watch him watching you.