Black Feathers

PART I

AMONG CROWS

Sometimes, when a bird cries out,

Or the wind sweeps through a tree,

Or a dog howls in a far-off field

I hold still and listen a long time.

My world turns and goes back to the place

Where, a thousand forgotten years ago,

The bird and the blowing wind

Were like me, and were my brothers.

My soul turns into a tree,

And an animal and a cloud bank.

Then changed and odd it comes home

And asks me questions. What should I reply?

Herman Hesse

Scarecrow, scarecrow, fingers o’ bone

Here come the scarecrow

Into your home

Scarecrow, scarecrow, teeth o’ glass

Here come the scarecrow

Let ’im pass

Scarecrow, scarecrow, eyes o’ stone

Here come the scarecrow

When you’re all alone

Children’s rhyme, Black Dawn era, oral tradition

The high,

the low

all of creation

God gives to humankind to use. If this privilege is misused,

God’s Justice permits creation to punish humanity.

Hildegard of Bingen