Old wood shadow, by Yvonne Aburrow
Old wood shadow
ivy clinging
moves among the trees
in strange and perilous forests.
That movement on the margins
of the wood, the presence
among lonely sedges:
mournful cry of curlew
where fen meets water.
Skin of yew-bark,
ancient and brown.
Cloak of bats,
who settle in her hair.
The year's passing,
the dark of the moon,
a time of memories.
The dead come to her
by the streets of the old city.
Women seek her solace
in the wild seas
and the wind's wuthering.