Brittle roads
Take an oily, black sheen
Beneath torrents of grief
Shed in cold and deafening buckets

They drum along the roof
Faltering effortlessly
As the oceans boil on
Brimmed with great distress

And calm beckons
Below, the strewn sheets of grey
Faultless melancholy
So bitter, uncompromising, and true

The pastures stir on
With gathering, droves of black
Murderous ravens
Prodding the moist earth
Before my amazement
My eager and longing eyes

Literary reverence
Sprawls before these winged beauties
Enshrined in pages of old
Forever entombed
In my unsteady thoughts