Sonnet CCXXVII

The ravens are their namesakes, ravenous and dark,
desirous of more food, thus hungry, black, and poor,
relying on reluctant mercy, door to door.
Their benefactors see not how good deeds embark;
they are annoyed, see extra work and mess – and hark!
They hear the crowing ravens, seeking more and more.
Apparently, the charity now turns to war
and hatred makes the eyes who fed now stark.

However piteously the ravens plan their plot,
it always turns to this – a war that’s yelled and fought.

In fact, voraciousness is not an awful sin.
If hungry, why should ravens not be let to eat?
So what if garbage bags are torn with angry feet,
torn up in search for any leftovers within?