I dreamt of a strange mysterious land
Neatly decorated with snowy sands.
An old dilapidated house made of stones
Covered by a lawn and fencing zones.
There is this lone girl waiting for a ride
Near a bus station she stands by the side
She watches the ruin with an eerie look
As if she knows, something is off the hook
Then my vision shift to a group of ravens
Digging earthly treasure for their safe haven
As if in an ancient ritual of winter sermon.
I look close, at the their tall awkward gait
Appearing as dark sketches on a white slate.
The girl stares at me, and whispers a word,
Ravens!! then she says, are rarely in herds,
They are solitary , why together they are here
This is a native puzzle which is still not clear.
She Wonders and says, the corvids have come,
As winter is coming, they belong in their homes,
There is a myth of long perished witches,
Maybe they visit this time of year to fix some old glitches
Either way some stories of cold winters are unknown,
Hear team but better to leave them alone.
I stared at the strangeness for the last time,
When I heard the faint jingling of sacred chimes,
I looked around the girl and ravens disappeared
I was left alone, with a strange state I reared
While I write, I still contemplate a dream so true
Sometimes tale of weirdness has their own virtue!!