This is my poem for October 27, a special day. You can read all of the contributions on Paul Brookes’ blog here.

Sirin and Alkonost

From beneath the first rocks uprooted,
the first source sprang in ribbons
of water-feathers, sparkling with song
and the soft melodies of comfort.

Water and wind, feathered fish-birds,
flying on billowed rivers, sisters, mothers,
wingtip to wingtip, owl and swallow,
swoop, sweep in their silent dances,

on their tongues, high, excited chatter
and the crooning flute music of remembrance,
they weave a life story, embracing birth,
death and all that lies between.