Large Fierce Mammal

I have always felt a comradeship with Ravens and Crows, and fortunately for me, the feeling appears to be reciprocated. What I have for you this Long Winter’s Night is the story of two fellow beings. One, a solitary Man interrupted at his ease by a persistent caller. The other, as it turns out, merely in quest of a last meal, and a companion to bear witness to the end of a life well lived.

The Strange Case of the Caller at the Library Window

By LFM

A perfect Winter day it was!
A log upon the fire tossed,
I took my book and whisky where
Both Man and mind may best be lost.

Midst walls festooned with volumes rare,
Containing all a Man should know,
My tongue caressed the whisky as
My mind, the works of Edgar Poe.

The morning wore, and hunger called,
So whisky drained, I left my tome,
And stalked below for meat and cheese,
With hearty beer to wash it home.

The laden platter soon adorned
The darkly lacquered table where
My faithful book awaited with
Its own sweet kind of darkling fare.

But scarce had morsel crossed my lips,
And questing mouth the tankard sought
Than came to ear a knocking sound –
Some caller at my door, I thought.

My book, my luncheon, beer and all,
Reluctantly I put aside,
And sought my bedroom dormer whence
No caller on my stoop could hide.

No person known or strange to me
Was standing at my cottage door,
So snorting then, I turned away
And soon was seated as before.

Yet, two things weighed upon my mind –
The first, that I was sweating so
I threw the lofty window up,
And laid aside my warming throw.

The second though, was hard to grasp,
Then dawned as bright as sunlit snow –
I sought the dormer yet again
To view once more the path below.

I scanned the trail up to my door,
From left to right, the road and back.
Upon the snow that covered all,
No living thing had left a track.

And then I heard the knock again.
More loud and clear than ’twas before.
My anger was what spurred me now,
To find what fool was at my door!

I gained the door and paused to take
My hanger down from off its hook,
And only then I opened it
A sword blade’s width to take a look.

No living thing met eye or steel,
No nimble trickster there to catch.
I came to stand with portal wide,
En garde, one hand upon the latch.

My eyes confirmed the yard around
Still gleamed with n’er a track to see,
Then, at my feet I found the proof
Of who had come to call on me.

Two large and taloned tracks I spied,
Part trampled by my slippered sole,
And next to them a feather lay,
A Raven’s pinion, black as coal.

I stood in thought, though not for long
Ere came a thump from up the stair,
And then I knew the trickster’s game –
The window standing open there!

I entered in and slammed the door,
Then sword in hand I mounted up
To find my empty platter and,
Upon the floor, my empty cup.

And there upon my reading chair
An ancient Raven watching me,
More grand upon its lofty back
Than any thro-ned King could be.

And then, as though the Raven felt
Its mission only part fulfilled,
It settled on my open book,
Beside a pool where beer had spilled.

A moment it regarded me,
Ere startlement could turn to rage,
The Raven inked its beak with beer
And pecked a mark upon the page.

Then silently it fluttered back,
Enthroned again, with solemn stare.
From thence it tumbled to the floor,
Stone dead before it landed there.

I found my book still open but
Three chapters on than ’twas before,
And on the page the Bird had pecked –
Beside its mark read, “Nevermore“.