Drawtober 2022: The Corvid Ball

It’s late in the evening
When I hear a tapping,
A murmurous sound in my room.
The flutter and mutter
Of one of the murder
Of crows that circle the moon.

He sits at my window,
Inviting me onward
With just a slight tilt of his head
As if to say, “No one
Will know if you wander
While everyone else is abed.”

I slip on my slippers
And snatch up my jacket
To make my way out in the night.
The glow and the glint of
The glimmering moonbeams
Provide me with plenty of light.

My crow flies above me,
Guiding me forward
Towards a wondrous, chattering sound.
The crows! There they gather
In flickering firelight
Where this candlelit murder is found.

In shining black velvet 
And ebony satin
The crows spin and swirl in their dance.
My guide lands beside me,
Extending a talon,
To ask if I’d join him by chance.

We dance ‘neath the starlight
And laugh ‘neath the branches
As this masquerade takes off, full swing.
The crows in their feathers
Are full of bright laughter
And songs only corvid folk sing.

They tell tales of nighttime
And deep dreadful darkness
Where lustrous jewels can be seen.
Rubies and diamonds,
Bright moonstones and garnets
Of sapphire, pearl, and citrine.

When midnight starts waning
And the crows, they are drooping,
My own corvid gives me a bow.
“Now wing your way homeward
My crow-friend, sweet witchling.
You don’t want to be missed anyhow.”

I walk home foot-weary
From dancing and dreaming
With crows in the nighttime’s dark glen.
But as dawn streams outward
And light touches branches,
I know that I’ll dance there again.