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  • Writer's pictureGeorgina Woods

Coronach with pied butcherbird

who? we?

He throws melodious appeals.

The light slants and I bend towards it seeking counsel.

heat heat more



His knell grants leave to cry.

The warm comes on, on. He keens for temperate cool

and I moan back, for Earth and all our error.

well-and-good, he soothes

throw throw do-it.

Lament is day: it ends and it returns.

after drought comes charity: all the clouds will burst, and rain will gather, days on days,

our motes of song to earth.


Written by Georgina Woods


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