Brother raven
missed his mark
ounce again his
beak meets bark
Angry, hungry
nothing to chew,
he is coming
after you.

Huge dark cross
tearing the sky,
blue behind black
right over your back.
Watch him roar,
hear the thunder pour,
as the raven summons more.
Thumbling in the rain
all this running done in vain.
You hear the famous beak
clap and snap
at your ankles
just as they eat
the beaten track.

Black, Scream, Shriek, Red,
another Indian lies there dead.
The forest summons him back in
with a horrible silence from within.
Blood spills down the feathery chin
presenting its most thankful grin.
Meat, raw meat, blood and gore
will make the raven
want some more.
So hide your wives
your sons, and necks
and prepare yourself
for summer next.