The Wood, the Wizard, the Tower, the Raven, the Knight

A plain painted land, few green 40 foot trees, short frail pale grasses, the tower overlooks, oversees in the greyish worried skies, no sea in sight.

The cloak brushes the grounds around the wizard feet, swift or slow, beating Time.

The dangerous dagger is ready to point its steadily waving blade tip, shiny and black, in the knight's tight grip.

Ever the raven soars and swoops knowingly but tells tales dark and foreboding.