by Michael Plante

In the city of lakes
a raven sits
listening to misguided people.
The early morning dew glistens by the rays of the sun
“Go away”, the raven grunks,
“Go away”.

Verbal litter echo the forest
where silence is vital to success.
Words softly spoken
barely a whisper
mindful reason to exist.
A snapped twig stirs justice
cunning muse draws attention
“You should have left”, the raven grunks,
“You should have left”.

Silence is death that awaits
here in the woods.
When arrogance sits atop the food chain
everything below suffers.
Verbal litter is silenced by night
and within the dark they fall.
Silenced by their own fears.

The raven speaks no more.
A new moon has risen in the spirit world
teaching misguided people
the attributes of silence.