Beneath the moon’s soft, silvery glow,
Crows gather, a shadowy row.
Their calls, a haunting melody,
Echo through the midnight sea.

In the stillness of the night,
They dance, a spectral sight.
Wings spread wide, they take their flight,
Vanishing into the darkness, out of sight.

Perched on branches, they observe,
Guardians of secrets, they preserve.
Eyes like obsidian, keen and bright,
Watching over the world with silent might.

When dawn’s first light begins to show,
The crows retreat, their whispers low.
Leaving behind a world anew,
Until the night calls again, they bid adieu.