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.