# The Raven's Quiet Counsel

## Shadows on Snow

On this crisp December morning in 2025, a raven perches on a bare branch outside my window. Its feathers blend with the gray sky, eyes sharp against the white snow. Ravens aren't showy birds—they don't sing sweetly or flaunt bright colors. They watch, they wait, they remember. In a world rushing toward light, the raven teaches us to pause in the dim hours.

## Holding the Unseen

Ravens carry stories in their calls, echoes of places unseen. They're known to recognize faces years later, to mourn their dead, to solve puzzles we overlook. Think of them not as omens of doom, but as companions in uncertainty. When life feels heavy, the raven reminds us: wisdom often hides in what we fear to face. It doesn't promise easy answers, just the strength to hold questions close.

## Wings for the Soul

Like the raven gliding alone yet purposeful, we each navigate our inner winters. It picks at the edges of what's buried—old regrets, quiet hopes—until something useful emerges. No grand revelations, just steady flight through fog.

- Remember a face from long ago.
- Guard a small truth.
- Soar a little higher tomorrow.

*In the raven's shadow, we find our own steady light.*