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A rewrite of The Raven from last week. First physio today for my shoulder – should be interesting.



Always Waiting.

The Raven watching the forest track
silent and oblivious, his disregard
for any single moment is obvious.

Listen to the violent rattle of branches,
waves chasing the wind
over the long grass of Mynydd y Lan.

Afon Sirhywi, we cross and recross the river
the coloured valley, and now empty eyes,
a reaching beak has reason for glaring.

With the wind, the confusion spreads quickly
through the trees and all the words will not release
your wings from this bronze binding.