In the shadowed glow of twilight’s breath,
Crows gather, weaving tales in the sky.
Their wings paint stories of life and death,
An endless dance where mysteries lie.

Upon the whispering winds they soar,
Guardians of secrets untold,
Their cries echo on the forgotten shore,
Where the night unfolds its silent gold.

Under the veil of the silver moon,
They glide with grace and darkened grace,
In the stillness of the night’s cocoon,
Their presence is an ethereal embrace.

These shadows of the evening’s realm,
In unity they fly, a spectral choir,
Guided by an invisible helm,
Their haunting flight never to tire.