Deep into the evening hours, the world is quiet and still. The hills—layered in tempered hues that hold the cold secrets of the night slowly transitioning into the fading memories of the midnight hour. As the clock of the cosmos ticks, the raven finds a single branch that reaches up to catch the first spill of the gilded Sun. The raven does not move. He knows that the transition from shadow to light is a delicate thing. If he were to fly too soon, the silence might shatter; if he stayed too long, the heat might singe his wings. He sits at the exact moment where the dark earth meets the burning gold of the sky. As the sun rises behind him, he absorbs the last of the night’s chill into his feathers, ensuring that when the light finally hits the valley below, it is warm, soft, and ready for the world to wake. He is the bridge between what was hidden and what is about to be seen. Size: 16”w x 20”h Original available. Contact us for the original or to commission a reproduction.
