This is an old feeling, standing by this evening’s field, these dark rags hanging, strung on wire, beaks silent and unmoving under a stretched sky. So which lore or gods apply? Would it help to free your feathers, wake thought and memory in cold skulls, wear a black cape in silhouetted brotherhood? Should I take up your work? Am I a familiar to a Norse god, with spying eyes in new watching brief; become his ears in Midgard? Should I...
