Midnight Aviary

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A maiden stands, in mystic array, Her tresses dark, like night's own shade, Entwined with blooms, in secret glade. A raven's form, in azure hue, Unfurls its wings, both strong and true, As if to shield, or perhaps to guide, The gentle soul, with heart full of pride. The flowers, like whispers, soft and low, In hues of pink, and blue's soft glow, Seem to converse, in silent tongue, With the maiden, and her avian throng. In this tableau, of dreamlike state, The boundaries blur, between reality and fate, The woman, bird, and blooms entwine, In a dance, of mystic, mystic design. A moment captured, in time's still frame, Where beauty reigns, and magic's name, Is whispered soft, in reverent tone, In this serene, and mystic throne.