Dear Poet Who Is Best Remembered for His Work on the Subject of Taciturn Corvids,

Do you actually know any ravens?

Sorry, but I couldn’t help wondering.

Me

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Which is by way of saying I’ve been rereading “The Raven”. Because it’s part of our cultural understanding (or lack thereof) of ravens, too.

Stray thoughts:

Just because a raven got into your chamber doesn’t mean it’s all about you, dude.

Ravens actually aren’t all that stately. But they’re not ungainly fowl, either. It is true they’re unlikely to offer you the least obeisance, though. Or me either.

I want a fic about whoever it is who taught this bird to say “nevermore.” Because ravens actually can learn that sort of thing, no divine messaging required.

Are you feeding this raven? Because, seriously, if it’s still sitting above your chamber door after all these years, someone is. Or maybe it’s mooching off all those uneaten meals the servants have been bringing you while you angst about Lenore?

So let me see if I have this right. Ravens. Totally not creepy. Except for the fact that they totally are!

Which … isn’t wrong. Actually.

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Dear Fowl Whose Fiery Eyes Burned Into the Poet’s Bosom’s Core,

I promise, I will never look at you and croak “Nevermore” again.

Well, almost never.

Me

Mirrored from Desert Dispatches: Wordpress Edition.

 
 
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