as the nights slip
cauldron to stone
from wave to cold
we turn to the
turning within
spirits on the wander
gather 'round the flames
dancing, spinning, yearning
as they give to the
turning within
let all our debt burn away
as we turn to the
turning within
our lady of crows
waits above the ford
will you bed her at river
should she bid you?
be she maiden or crone?
she waits on her lover,
our lady of crows
have you come to
collect waters issued of
our lady of crows?
to reap on the harvest,
as gifted bounty of
our lady of crows?
or have you come to
enjoin at frenzy and fury
of our lady of crows?
i wait on dreams
of her fountainhead,
at her narrows standing
flow her water, oak & ash
hazel & blackthorn sharp,
at her narrows standing
wait upon gold & rust
for rime & without reason,
at her narrows standing
long the night i belong
set to slumber underground,
at her narrows standing
thin sticks stacked
for drifter design
in this twilight world
all glyph and glamour
—howl now the wolves
gun oil and smolder
burning under the thick
hammer crack, steel
the flint for the sticks
dream now
in shift with the pale
lizard tails and tail feathers
our hearts lined in trees
bloodstone inside and
marching square toes
in steel rings and bootblack
down the horizon roads
scented with burnout:
come night, she sings