One Star, at Last
Brown george Mackay, Peter Maxwell Davies
"Fix on one star, at last.
Any star
In the circling star blizzard. That star will take you Whithersoever
To Death and Birth and Love.
Folded it is now, the Dove. Furled, star folded,
The black rain falls,
The bitter floods rise still. What hand will take the branch from the Dove's beak?
We stand, three vagrants at the last door.
A black fist lingers, a star on withered wood."