53
across a dome of Virgin Mary blue
high clouds had turned to gold as the sun arose
standing on the oval we acclaimed this dawn
greeted by the magpies and decried by the crows
was it in skies like this that we imagined gods
did we think they too would die like this sunrise
perhaps but for now we’ll sing the magpie’s song
and spurn the crow’s dark and desolate cries
Bill Hannan 