below the wood

Below the wood are the valleys and forests, where coal mingles with gold.

A ballad for Cuda

Beware the barking of blackbirds.

Thunderer tarnishing timber in the sky.

Cerridwen taught me that Awen is like grain and bards must sieve to work with it.

Striker,
You came crashing, a comet from infinite cosmos.

A wise man once said, when the sun rose I’d be saved.

I am the Grey Wolf of Antimony.

Bequeath to me your guiltless daughters.

A houndsman am I, my visage a void.

Down into Dark-Age dreariness I run.

In the prize-songs of falling snow she sits.