The bird of omen
On the railing of the veranda
I sat a raven since I have never seen a white one
one can assume it was black.
It had yellow eyes but not from the Far East.
It flew into my living room walked like a sailor
on land leave into the bedroom.
Why does a sailor seek a bar, it is because
the hustle and bustle ashore makes him nervous
and beer is sold.
The raven eat a white mouse – my pet- saw how
the mouse struggled to get up but it died in a morass of stomach juices.
The raven came out nodded thank you and flew off
without a word of thank you.
I looked up to the sky saw small white clouds doing
their own things; to think I had thought
it was an omen,