He visits each day at the crack of noon.
He makes his offering; we commune.
Lunch from a sack; we use no spoon.
He casts my share upon the dune.
I go to where the scraps are strewn -
Leery of him, but such a boon!
To his charms I am not immune -
My trust breaks free of its tight cocoon,
And thus we spend the afternoon.
When he leaves, it seems too soon.
As he departs, I caw a tune.
Until tomorrow, my heart is hewn.
He makes me dream of a cucumber moon.
Gift to a raven on your birthday.
Gift of a raven on your birthday.
May all your moons be cucumbers.