The caw, crows no more    

held silent, in gape of hoary beak;

bleak eyes see eternal

through the mask of winters storm

But as the cold winds blow

through the bare limbed boughs 

the spirit of your freedom;

impales you high into the sky

your blackness to be immortal

so fly now high and mighty

to soar the winters storm

For you will be forever 

the voice of winter storms