The Crow

I

I had a dream that I was walking at the edge of a lake. And in it, I saw the dead rising from their tombstones, as clouds drift over the sun. I had a dream that I was walking and I was always walking for a long, long way, but I never got anywhere.

II

Not far from the water’s edge, ice glistening, puckered like an old man’s skin. And moisture that clung so thickly to me that it became my own. I watched the fish skirt past my bare feet, egg-eyed, with mouths gaping for air. And I saw the splattered flocks of crows winging down. Their beaks black and shining like broken glass. They settled, waiting for the next turn of day.

• Ted Hughes