There's ink on the
Parchment paper,
Staining my quill
As I write in silence.
A solemn nod as
Chittering echoes
In the blizzard, a
Beckoning birdsong
That's wild and shrill.
So I leave my window
Pane cracked open,
Just for a dull moment
To ease the hollow wind.
When the light of dusk
Graced my frigid skin,
There was a letter on
My desk along with
A crow's feather, dusted
From evening snowfall.
I wallowed in the sunlight
As hazel breached the
Creaking floorboards,
Glancing wearily at the
Open window by my desk.
Perched on the sill was
A quiet crow, and a worn
Letter in the bird's beak.
It seemed my time for
Company was overdue.