The Dove

The squawk of the fowl resounded, its baleful shrieking surmounted. Bonds to ration tore, at the incessant crows of Nevermore. With the cacophony abounding, its louring caws surrounding; abruptly there came a pounding, sounding at my chamber door. Dread flooded my veins. "Tis the wind," I remembered. "As before, only this and nothing more"