Loquacious Tlingit ravens have a lot
to say in language only Tlingits know.
Perhaps they’re raising Cain to show they’ve got
squawks louder than their kin, the common crow.
Perhaps they mock the fledgling eagle who
in daydreams soars pursing game and glory,
unfazed by heckles hurled as if on cue,
perched gazing, waiting for his first fish story.
Perhaps they gossip late so we can’t sleep,
trash talk reminding us we don’t belong.
Perhaps their raucousness proves love runs deep,
their grating caws, a lusty mating song,
although as totems of a Tlingit clan,
they likely prattle just because they can.