Apr. 15, 2018
Rook of the Henge
Perched atop an ancient stone
Watchful eyes dart furtively,
Surveying all and telling none
What, pray tell, do your cries mean,
Are they of pain untold,
Or the mysteries of the Druid Queen?
Fly, ‘round the mighty megaliths ~
A bird’s eye view of majesty;
Standing gift of primordial smith.
The unsaid word is Nevermore
To man’s horrors
Of fire, strife and war
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