“Could this be the place?” the raven asked.
From town to village, the bird searched for a home after losing his family to a late freeze.
The first place he stopped was a fine town on the Rhine. As he watched, the villagers revealed their cruelty and malice toward each other.
“This is no place for me. Time I be off,” remarked the bird as he spread his wings.
Next, Shilo found a quiet village near the sea, but as before, the humans showed no kindness or care.
“It might be the cold north wind that freezes these people’s hearts,” muttered the bird as he flew out of town.
Shilo sensed a darkness among the people of the land. He wondered why, with so much to bring them joy, these humans were turning cold.
“I’m sure there is a place where kindness grows in the people’s hearts,” said the bird as he sailed across the fields.
Next was a ghost of a town recently visited by the Black Death. Father on a village still smoldering from a recent battle. “So much waste,” thought Shilo.
Summer stretched on, and still there was no sign of a place Shilo could call home.
“If I fail to find a home, then to the mountains and a frozen death for me,” the bird said.
As he made his way to the foothills, the bird spotted a tiny village and decided to investigate.
“Could this be the place? They seem full of life and love,” remarked Shilo as he watched the villagers.
The men and women walked, laughed, and talked as they went about their daily habits.
Yes, their hearts are warm, and kindness fills their voices,” Shilo chirped.
“CAW CAW CAW. I have found my home,” cried the raven.
The villagers turned, saw the bird, and smiled, nodded, and waved. “Welcome, traveler. Rest your weary wings,” said one tall man.
Shilo was home.
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