Praiseworthy is the raven
perched atop the tower.
It stands alone, away from a life
that runs as smoothly as a river.
The raven could dive and avoid
the icy gales that pull at its feathers, but
the raven chooses otherwise.
It never forgets what it means
to stand proud.
The raven is no crow;
it does not roost in company.
It never succumbs to even waters,
never has its color washed away.
The raven is no dove.
It is truth.