Ravens at Large

Coal-black, sleek, cackling titans,

Foreboding,  demonic and dark

Edgar Allen Poe’s fond familiars;

But---those aren’t our ravens, oh no

Muskoka’s are practical jokers

Bursting garbage bags with ease

Willful, comedic tricksters

Partaking of gourmet  delights

While scattering the odorous rest

For all with less delicate palates:

Bears, mice, skunks and---Thelma,

The welfare bum’s hound.

 

Their secret, coded messages

In endless variety and volume

Echo through the trees

Imitating and confusing

Bluejays, crows and, yes, Thelma,

The twanging guitarist’s hound.

 

Top gun fliers, dauntless and bold,

Swoop and swerve, narrowly missing

Tree trunks, branches, hydro wires

And, yes, Thelma,

The irritating neighbour’s hound.

 

Over the cliff they loop the loop,

Barrel-roll, dive and coast,

The Red Baron, no match, whatever

For these Olympian fliers.

 

Chief Raven, half a beak missing

Hell’s Angel of the bird domain

Spots Thelma and her dead-beat pal

Out for an evening stroll.

Cawing raucously, he plummets---

Plopping capriciously

On our irritant’s bare head

Copious dog dung, flat and frozen.

Just imagine the rest!

 

So, to savour poetic justice,

Raise your glasses high,

To our jaunty cliff-dwellers,

Pugnacious, daring and wild.