A bird of black, a creature bold,
A harbinger of tales untold.
With cawing voice and piercing sight,
It soars above with all its might.
The crow, a symbol of the dark,
With feathers sleek and sharp claws stark.
It dances in the air with grace,
And brings a message from its place.
The tales it tells are rich with lore,
Of magic, mystery, love, and war.
It whispers secrets to the wind,
And leaves us wondering what's within.
Its eyes are wise and full of light,
Reflecting tales of day and night.
And though it may seem strange and queer,
It's full of life, it's full of cheer.
So let us listen to its voice,
And learn from it a different choice.
For in its words, so rich and wise,
There lies a world of mystery and disguise.
It's more than just a simple bird,
It's a messenger, a voice unheard.
So watch it fly and take in the sight,
And hear the tales it tells tonight.
It's a symbol of the unknown,
Of secrets kept, of things unknown.
So let us cherish every crow,
And learn the tales it has to show.
For in its eyes, so dark and deep,
There lies a story, ours to keep.
And though it may seem wild and free,
It holds within a mystery.
So let us listen, let us see,
The tales the crow has come to be.
For in its songs, so rich and rare,
There lies a world beyond compare.
