A Metaphor's Canvas

In ebony attire, a raven's disguise,

A creature of contrast, a crow does arise.

Its feathers like ink, a darkness profound,

A metaphor's canvas, where wonders are found.

A crow, a silhouette against the moon's embrace,

A shadowy dancer in the twilight's grace.

Its caw, a melody, both eerie and deep,

A whispered secret, the night's secret to keep.

Its eyes, like onyx gems, hold ancient tales,

Reflecting the wisdom of forgotten trails.

A riddle unraveled, a puzzle unsolved,

In those gleaming orbs, mysteries resolved.

With wings that unfold, an ebony cloak,

It glides through the winds with grace bespoke.

A messenger of secrets, a harbinger of change,

A symbol of transformation, ever so strange.

In the winter's chill, it stands tall and bold,

Defying the frost with a heart made of gold.

A metaphor for resilience, unwavering and true,

An emblem of strength in a world anew.

Oh, crow, you are more than a creature of night,

You're a symbol, a metaphor shining bright.

A reminder to embrace both light and shade,

To find beauty in darkness, where depths are laid.

So let the crow soar, let its metaphors fly,

As it weaves through the tapestry of the sky.

A symbol of wisdom, mystery, and might,

In its wings, a poet's dreams take flight.