In the depths of night, beneath the moon’s soft glow,
Crows gather, weaving tales only they know.
Their wings like shadows, cut through the veil of dreams,
Whispering secrets in the hushed, silent streams.

Perched high on the branches, they watch the world below,
With eyes like polished onyx, they see the ebb and flow.
Guardians of the twilight, they herald the dawn,
In the chorus of the morning, their voices are drawn.

Through the windswept fields, their flight is bold and free,
A dance of ancient rhythms, a timeless symphony.
In the heart of their flock, a mystery unfolds,
A tapestry of echoes, a story retold.

Oh, crows of the night, with your enigmatic call,
In your dance of shadows, there is magic in it all.
In the quiet of the evening, you paint the sky so wide,
Nature’s own enigma, forever side by side.