crow-trees-falling

Wise crows, raven-kin

Driven from your ancient trees

What home will call you now?

Where cosy craft

Of power’s secret circle

Convinces gentle folk

That cut and death and burn

Deliver best the clearing tide.

Revealing light?

Barren gaps and ugly fires

Of healthy wood consume

Both eye and view in sadness

The darker light made clear.

 Be welcome, now

Among our ash and sycamore

The noble wood of sharing

Noisy dawns we will abide, and smile

When joyous roosting fills the brightening sky.

Wise crows, raven-kin

Driven from your ancient trees

This home will call you now.

©Copyright Stephen Tanham 2017

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