Yud, Hay, Vav, Hay

'Yud, Hay, Vav, Hay' by Jonathan Wooding

Jackdaw, take your turn –
ravens are breaking bread
before you, under the ministering eye
of morning’s winter moon.

Sing Yud Hay Vav Hay
before these fabulous ravens;
before the groaning cattle too,
stock still in the valley’s shadows.

Brazen sun, blinding eastern skies –
sing Yud Hay Vav Hay
before the hooting woodpigeon,
and before the rinsing river.

Grass blades, ease
your frosty burden
into the flick of caught light –
sing Yud Hay Vav Hay.

And thunder-jets, blast
the unlistening land –
your whorl of threat, your throated roar –
but hear, Yud Hay Vav Hay.

Look down, even look away –
beneath, the cold garden –
indifferent and particular
I sing, Yud Hay Vav Hay.

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