Morning Ritual (a sonnet)

Each day the morning ritual’s the same,
I wake to hear the traffic in the street.
My mother, from her bedroom, calls my name.
I wish that I could stay in longer sleep.
Preparing breakfast, brewing morning tea,
I throw the heavy window open wide
Breathing in cold air, throwing bread and seed
to waiting birds that gather there outside.
But now my lingering dreams all fly away
A Raven came, down swooping from the sky!
His presence here a blessing on the day
My heart awakes and lifts my spirit high.

Mythic bird, bringing darkness from the night
On wings outspread and lifting up in light.


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