Sunday

Flicker of dawn awakes the raven,

Perching on a tree, it awaits the mortal,

Shimmering black raven, hungers for a glimmer,

It craves for a dazzle, yet it waits.

Rustling on the branch, it flusters with anticipation,

The raven's sight shines upon a glistening rock,

Colorful and bedazzling, the rock tempts.

The eye of heaven pierces through the feathers of the bird,

Yet it waits almost soundlessly,

For the mortal to be gone,

Unbeknownst to the bird, the mortal sleeps,

For today is not like everyday,

Perhaps the raven forgot it was a Sunday.