Thursday 29 June 2017

Green Valley 2: 5 Wild

2
There was no secret to the Ravens
No telepathy required, no spells,
They hung about, chased mice and chicks
And answered questions with precision.
From them she learned the order of the farm,
Its boundaries, quantities, and where to grow
What was required for now and later.
And so things stayed the same,
And prospered even as the summer grew,
But no brothers sat in kitchen of an eve
And meals were taken without joy.
She took to inviting neighbours in,
But all thought that she should marry soon
And give the farming over to a man.
The women better were, still talked of herbs,
Or quaint corners where other worlds slid by,
Dropped many secrets ,saw the work she’d done,
And gave silent warm respect,
Murmured warnings of other doors,
And deals that should not be made
For lost one’s lives.
Were disapproving of her flashing eyes
When such hints were raised.
Once she thought she’s seen him
Standing on the valley’s rim,
Leaning on spear
Looking down and in,
Ran breathless, cloak a-billow
with Ravens flapping, bobbing round her head
and Jess the sheepdog and puppies round her feet
approximating Wolf but no real substitute
but when she got there,
it was not him, just some pedlar,
who made the cross at her wild expectations
and backed away at speed,
muttering, in high german,
By all the saints, A fury.
She caught a glimpse
Reflected in a puddle by the path
Of her demeanour,
Bird haloed,dog-packed in protection
And recognised her eyes alone.
There was no peaceful quaker child,
Here was careworn desperation,
All energy on the valley,
Keeping other’s safe ,
And who cares for the carers
Came the thought.
And where was Wolf.?
Threw back head, hair loosed its bounds,
Cloak hood failed in function
And she howled skywards as a dog.
Ravens cawing called in rooks
And Jess’s pack howled along,
She ran as whirlwind
Past the oak and thorns
Past hayricks ,through lines of maize,
Her own wild hunt, and brought with her,
Unsurprisingly to some,
Great sheets of cloud, then heavy rain.
Inside, as rain’s huge gobbets bulleted the house
All gulped hot soup from wooden bowls,
In feral hunger, no distinction made
Between witch-queen and her beasts,
No manners, or ordering of the pack
As all slept in piles before the fire,
Dogs and wildchild,
Offering each other the dumb warmth
And mannerless comfort,
So needed by bereaved.
Green Valleys defenses were now so strong
That language could not get into the land,
All is strength, immediate reaction,
And inside the quaker child still burned,
Desperate for the poorly to visit and be healed,
But they saw the valley in a different light,
Owned by half child half witch, and pack of dogs,
And dared not enter, though in great need.
A bear they said, with Ivy in its pelt,
Prowled the woods and devoured all.
In abandonment she cast new runes
And waited while the seasons turned,
Still feeling hints of the old life she craved,
Whenever the new moon waxed.
But,wild as she was, and woebegone,
The farm still grew and promised life,
She barely saw this, though sun shone,

Would Greenman still came to claim his wife ?

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