I thought about passing
standing by the altar
with the rain falling,
the wind gusting
and the silence of Rhiannon’s Birds
as she rode her white mare
now her black mare through the mist
and just then, as I was bidding farewell,
a crow cawed, just once, and I smiled;
even as she went her birds were not silent
and I thought of the owl’s call
on winter nights and so knew
that echoing cry would be the echo
of her going, and her wraith would remain
through dim days and dark nights
so her passing is an affirmation
as the crow knew and I, hearing, know too.