Parliament
By the sun's fading light,
One crooked tree plays host to a flock,
A parliament of ravens.
They are all solemn and silent.
They do not discuss matters in public.
Their black eyes watch idle passers-by.
They regard people, who disregard them.
This is as they wish it.
Ravens would rather be ignored by man.
The sun sets. The stars emerge,
and the rising moon throws across the park
the shadow of that crooked tree.
The ravens' parliament.
Now politics may begin.
