'So, get real, raven, on your highest perch...' Photo: Sergio Ibanez / Unsplash.
After God
'After God' by Jonathan Wooding
Get real, raven, on your highest perch –
winter sun can catch your beak yet,
O, silhouette on the empty sky.
Larch has lost her colour now.
Cattle hold their peace. Lichen
prospers on the ancient cherry.