The Crow’s Lullaby

“Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so?
There’s no mistaking your fear, your torment and woe,
As I walk on by, way down here below;
Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so?”

“Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings;
“I’ve seven cute children, behold my old nest;
Good babies with big round eyes filled with zest,
Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings.

“My wings are worn ragged, my beak torn to shreds,
Seeking morsels in the shallows of the old river bed,
‘Neath the beech and the oak just to keep each one fed,
My wings are worn ragged, my beak torn to shreds!”

“Ne’er a moment of rest or a sliver of peace.
If e’er I should find myself dispossessed,
Of the ones that I loved, of the ones I’ve been blessed;
Ne’er a moment of rest or a sliver of peace!

What will I do when the raging storm breaks,
When the wild winds they blow, and the floodwaters churn?
Should my children be taken and never return;
What will I do when the raging storm breaks?

And where will I go, how will I hide,
From the hawk on the high wind and the silent winged owl;
How will I protect them from hunters on the prowl,
Where will I go, and how will I hide?”

“Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings;
“My round eyed good babies all seven you’ll see,
You’ll then understand what it means to be me,
Upon yonder mountain!” the mother crow sings.

“Mother crow, mother crow, how you squawk so,
There’s no mistaking your fear, your torment and woe.
I now understand, way down here below…
Mother crow, mother crow, why you squawk so!”

18 04 2025

Based on “The Crow’s Lullaby” (or sometimes “Nanatsu no Ko”), a Japanese children’s song that tells  the story of a mother crow’s concerns for her seven children.

Love Song

Good news, beloved, I bring to thee,
Good news to make you glad;
May your mountains reach the clouds above,
Their misty peaks in rainbows clad.

May your verdant forests cast their roots
Deep into the earth, my dear;
May no blade ever cut them down,
And may their shade spread far and near.

May your crystal clear waters run deep, my love,
And may they never run dry!
May your waters that flow like blood through the land
Bring succour to earth and to sky.

May your wings grow sturdy my dear sweetheart,
To carry you above the world of pain.
May they be strong enough to endure the sun
And the endless storms of wind and rain.

May your white horse never stumble and fall,
May it bring you safely home to me;
May you never bow to the tyrant, love;
May your heart forever be free!

Haiku Sequence

What is Life?

first frost;
brown wisps of grass peeking out
from behind a cedar fence post

reaching heavenward;
white smoke from the chimney
of a distant farmhouse

tracing eternity;
tiny mice trails soon to disappear
under the snow

sudden squeal of brakes –
the local schoolbus sliding
sideways on ice

a kitten startled
by its reflection in a mirror –
not yet a cat!

afterward;
pale misty trails on tangled limbs,
the wandering moon

Haiku Sequence;

Beachwalkers at Sunrise

storm coming;
batten down the hatches and send
out your prayers!

crossing the bridge;
swollen autumn river
lapping at our heels!

waking abruptly;
the roar of rushing winds a thing
of my own body?

small birds ebbing
and flowing with the tide;
beachwalkers at sunrise

The Friend

I’ve placed your feet
upon the path;
you only need to trust

leave behind the world
to be and do the
things it must

sing the song of love
that lives deep within
your heart

and call upon me
day and night for we are
never apart

This was a disturbing poem, especially as a parent, to write, based on a true story as it is (the image of the first verse happened literally as told). But… I remind myself that for those of us who would “take up the plough”, obeisance to the subject matter / truth, for the poet, is all important. We are bound to follow our muse wherever it may lead, and not necessarily question or falter when difficult subject matter calls. A further reference was a family I know, who lost their daughter in her prime, and the devastation her passing wrought.

a child’s salty tears;
more precious than any
holy water!

Father, Dear Father

Father dear father,
that seed you’ve sown;
The sun, the soil
and the rain will free it!
In no time at all,
that tree will be grown,
But I won’t be
here to see it.

Son, my dear son,
in your sweet springtime,
The beat of my heart
and the black of my eye;
Who would deprive you
of your unstained prime,
And rob you of wings
yet to taste sky?

Father, dear father,
‘twould be cruel deceit,
Were silence to remain
falsely enthroned.
And to regret forthwith,
a further conceit;
I cannot see farther
than the eye has shown!

Son, my dear son,
be that as it may,
Were deception a bedfellow
I was able to bed.
As sure as the darkness
of night follows day,
I would choose over anguish,
To which I’m now wed!

Father dear father,
that seed you’ve sown,
The sun, the soil
and the rain will free it;
In no time at all,
that tree will be grown…
But I won’t be
here to see it!

Saturday 15 02 2025

Haiku Sequence;

Morning Parley

fierce thunderclap –
a dream scurrying away,
never to return!

living in mist;
a pair of swallows huddling,
not ready to fly away

lovers embracing;
last night’s tears forgotten
(till next time)

morning parley;
my mantle of dewdrops for
a sliver of golden light?

28 01 2025