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"Crying cranes and wheeling crows...
I'll remember them," she said;
And I will be your own, God knows,
And the sin be on my head.

I will be your own and glad;
Lovers would be fools to care
How a thing is good or bad,
When the sky is everywhere...

"I will be your own," she said,
"Because your voice is like the rain,
And your kiss is wine and bread
Better than my father's grain."

So I took her where she spoke,
Breasts of snow and burning mouth...
Crying cranes and drifting smoke
And the blackbirds wheeling south.

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November 2016

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