The Call of The Raven Wild

Ron Koppelberger

The Call of the Raven Wild

Nate Mill always minded the dull drum, the crawl of minutes in pass, the whisper of a hundred breaths in expectant endeavor. He sat perched in waiting desire of drama, he judged the dust in bored fascination and sleepy eyed confessions of stagnation and in this conscious effort to stimulate the hour, the dirge of a passing day, he found the twilight and the Raven wild.
Nate averted the gaze of the setting sun for the bleeding edge of an indigo horizon. He listened and sighed, “Caw, caw!” The Raven had perched itself near the top of a tall pine on a gnarled bough. “Caw, caw!” the Raven sang in wild yells of autumn essence. Nate cupped his hands and called back.
“Caw, caw!” The Raven spread it’s wings and danced in circles on the tree limb.
“Caw, Caw!” it sang in pointed reply. Nate grinned and sang back,
“Caw, caw!” The Raven swooped down to Nate and landed near a rose in full bloom, blood red and candent in silhouette by the orange twilight.
“Caw, caw!” it breathed and invited. Nate whispered in passionate reverie,
“Caw, caw, my love.”
The sky faded to darkness and pinpoints of starlight. The Raven flittered like a moth near Nates face finally resting beside him. In chance and fated change the Raven became a beauty, a princess in person, in coquette and gentle corn silk tethers.
She opened her mouth to sing the Ravens hymn and found words instead, “ My love, my husband, my reason for being, I’ve come to rescue you from your boredom.” Nates heart pounded and the blush of an obsessive desire overcame him.
My love in dreams of confessed bliss and wanting affection, my companion in endless love and forever a jeweled twilight…..”
They found each other in measures of drama, passion and love, and for the rest of the world the song was eternal.