I. Dark Moon
On a dark moon
the lady in the ivy
winds down the dark hill
and the falling graves.
All memory
is sliding into darkness,
the river’s tides
her open mouth.
She is waiting
for the return
of her tribe
on their oaken boats.
The moon is dark
over the river-
an eye, a maelstrom
between the worlds.
The fleet are ready,
the church is empty,
graves as hollow
as the old green hill.
She will be waiting
in the ivy
for the return
of her tribe
on their oaken boats.
II. New Moon
All is darkness
but the splash of the tide,
the wing of an owl.
Lady Ivy
recounts her losses
on the hill
and the bank
where the hangman
wore his cowl.
They are waiting
in the maelstrom eye
of the new moon-
the river’s entryway
to living day
and deep Annwn.
They are waiting,
her hidden tribe
on their oaken boats
in a slit of light,
an opening moonbeam
to row through
the night
to the old green hill.
III. Moon First Quarter
There is wisdom
in the eyes of an owl-
a demand,
a categorical imperative.
Behind cumulonimbus clouds
secretly moon’s orb
is swelling.
They row.
History is written
in their woad-
gods and goddesses,
an oak king,
the lakes and water courses
of their oaken fleet,
the moon’s eye
in the shining river
and all the laws of the deep.
IV. Full Moon
The moon is full
behind the clouds.
She casts no light
on the empty boats,
the processional route
around the old green hill,
the moving river of woad.
Lantern bearers
pass the old iron rails,
the gloomy gathering of graves
to assemble on the mound,
igniting the beacon fire.
By the wing of an owl
the clouds are moved.
The moon looks down,
victorious.
They salute her orb
in the shining river,
the gods of the hill
and the deep.
On this night
of opened graves
anything is possible
in the light of the beacon fire
before the lambent eye of the moon.
V. Moon Last Quarter
Night has fallen
from the moon’s closing eye.
The owl has flown
to the hunt.
The fire gone cold
with the lanterns’ glow
is eclipsed by street lamps
and brake lights.
The by-pass roars
by the old green hill.
The river is concreted
back in her new course.
Lady Ivy
winds down
the hill and the graves.
She waits
for the tribe to row
to the river-moon
on their oaken boats,
to her maelstrom-eye
between the worlds.
The Sanctuary of Vindos 