About Ravens

As dead leaves drop
into the rushing river
like falling acrobats,
a raven looks accusingly at me.
I wonder what he sees.
Like nature itself,
his meaning is a mystery.
He flies toward the dying light,
disappearing into the night.
What we make of birds
is what we want to see.
It’s spartly truth,
but it’s mostly make believe.

George Freek

George Freek’s poem “Enigmatic Variations” was recently nominated for Best of the Net. His poem “Night Thoughts” was also nominated for a Pushcart Prize.