Tonight, the crows are gathering.
They sweep across the twilight sky, black shadows that seem to stitch the heavens with thread pulled from another world. In the old Celtic way, this was no ordinary sight. When the crows gathered, it meant a council was being held. A council not of men, but of spirits. Their cries carried messages between the seen and the unseen, omens drifting down with the beating of their wings.
It was said that such a gathering foretold a storm. Sometimes the storm came as rain, lashing the fields and rattling the windows. Other times it came as quarrels in the home, unrest in the heart, or a shift in the winds of fate. The crows knew before we did, and their sharp eyes gave warning: change is on its way.
So, in answer to today’s WP prompt, what am I doing this evening? I’m watching the crows, listening for the storm that follows, and wondering what news they bring from the other side.
And if Granny Frass were here, she’d wag her finger and say –
“Storm or no storm, girl, close the door tight and mind your tea doesn’t get cold. Those crows can caw all they like, but it won’t stop the turf from needing stacking tomorrow!”
Mae🧡
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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