Poem of the week: Morning star

A new work by Chris Murray

The day lightens from cold
to blue. A glint of her caught
in crow's diadem as he wheels

home. We are bound to hard things,
to wood, steel and wire –
Who would hear heartsongs

in the cacophony of words
tumult-born? Day is carried
in by crow's harsh heralding

through and above those
stormy crosscurrents.
Soaring, his fluid gyration.


Even now, now, his harsh
heralding is the one true thing.