Raven, raven on my roof,
how you make it rattle.
You’d think your claws were little hoofs
as back and forth you prattle.
All winter you’ve perched on my streetlight
warming up your feet;
but now you skitter left and right;
I guess my roof sounds neat.
You scrape and clatter up and down
like some unoiled lever.
Your nails on metal make me frown
with midnight blackboard fever.
I grit my teeth, run out the door
to bid you and your croak good-bye,
but you’re too fast and off you soar,
midnight black in the morning sky.