Ravenland

This is a land of plain and peak,

Of stark and barren moor.

Here in the dead wind, black wings creak

And grey skies keep the law.

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This is a land of ghost-skin trees

Whose branches wound the sky.

Here there are stones and bones and keys,

And here dark feathers lie.

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This is a land of crow-plucked eyes

And soul-fled sockets staring.

Here you are watched by the land and her lies,

And her black-feathered children, glaring.

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This is a land of sculpted fears,

Of hooded, sickly light.

Here is the sun to dry your tears,

And here is the creeping night.