Coronach with pied butcherbird
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