There is no lonelier spot
than the castle on the moors,
hung over with scudding cloud
where a lone tattered crow soars.
As it guards the castle gate
it utters raucous caws,
eyeing the path with a shiny eye
while sharpening beak and claws
to pick at the first stars of twilight,
a shadow unzipping the night.
The crow was once the familiar
of a woman both beautiful and rich,
and everyone had accused her
of being a powerful witch.
The locals erected a stake and pyre
where they tied her with her crow
and set them both on fire.
Their souls melded together
and they flew as a single black bird
to guard the castle forever.
Kim M. Russell, 2nd September 2019
Sherry is taking a page out of Magaly’s book this Monday and asks us to tell a story in in either poetry or prose, and in 313 words or less, which is inspired by the Moors, the lowering skies, the ruins of a castle, the ghosts of times long past, the phantom tinkling of a piano…