After God

'After God' by Jonathan Wooding

'So, get real, raven, on your highest perch...' | Photo: Sergio Ibanez / Unsplash.

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.

You need to login to read subscriber-only content and/or comment on articles.