A raven tumbles through horizontal snow
and battering winds. I see one in every storm.
Its forward progress defies physics, reason
and probably good sense, but who am I
to tell a bird how—or when—to fly?
Summers, the ravens gather in trees.
I hear gossip and convivial complaint
in the gravel and chuck of their voices,
but perhaps they are telling stories,
recalling winters past, reminding each other
that falling can be graceful
and impending doom a dance partner.
— from Juniper Volume 5, Issue 2