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The beak-faced, egg-breasted Bird Mother is the oldest known supernatural deity and she was worshipped in the oak groves of these isles long before any other more humanoid entities.
I wrote this after learning that frequency spectographic research found the dawn chorus builds, with its sound, what looks like cathedrals of light. (More here: https://anniedieuleveut.com/2021/01/14/the-cathedrals-of-light-sung-by-the-dawn-chorus/)
I am very grateful to APi-ZZ (Andreas Pirner) for composing such enchanting music. You can find him here: https://soundcloud.com/api_zz
Words and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, January 2024
Music by APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner)
© APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner), January 2024
Cover Art: Detail from a stained glass window at Dornoch Cathedral in the Scottish Highlands, taken by John Haslam.
Poem:
All honour to the Crane bag of the Bird Mother,
with its Ogham runes and snakes' eggs blue
that birth the laws to protect the young,
and those who will later come along
to live under Her eye of the Moon.
Our groves were grown for her Offertory
and even now that they have become churches,
her birds still intone sonic cathedrals of light
to wind Saturn’s clock for each new day ...
and will do for so long as the Earth is.
The murmuring Starlings keep vigil in the dark,
sparkling in their bright constellations.
A Long-Eared Owl hoots the Magnificat
through the cloisters, to prepare the Mass
for the sleep-dreaming congregations.
An Eagle arrives at the lectern
to conduct the Liturgy of Hours,
its hawkwind-breath inspires and expires
through the lead-slated roofs and copper spires,
with prayers reaching up to Her flower-decked bower.
Then a Martin begins the morning Matins
by swift-spiralling above to show
we’re all part of the round robin rhyme
of the tic-tocking Wheel of Time,
here in our nests and bowers down below.
At Lauds, a Lark ascends through tree-lined arches
into the heavenly fan vaulting,
a glorious Gloria trilling on its tongue,
that the Sun will keep its promise
that a new day will come,
its joy unstinting and unhalting,
As through the leaded panes of the old church Quire,
skies are turning from blusher to butter,
while songbirds in serried ranks, brightly arrayed,
are chirping and whistling a dawn chorus of praise
to Her Blessedness, the egg-breasted Bird Mother.
At Prime, a Peregrine Falcon flies to the tower,
to squawk in the new Sun.
Then a Torquoise Jay emerges at Terce
to Gregorian chant the chapter and verse,
now that the third hour after dawn has come.
White Swans take flight from their lakes
to lead the sublime symphony of Sext.
They soar past choirs of stone-winged angels
to ring the bells and the Summer Triangle,
all down the nave and through the transepts.
Next it’s the turn of a red-cloaked Cardinal.
He intones a psalm, accompanied by a bassoon.
It is Nones, which marks the ninth hour since sunrise,
and so we have now reached mid-afternoon.
Long purple shadows are silently descending
from the wings of a bald-headed Vulture
flying in for Vespers at this juncture,
So we know that the day She gave is now ending.
Finally, at Compline, a black Crow arrives,
the incense to light, and to recite the Agnus Dei.
He perches on the altar in full magisterium,
to hoarsely croak out a sombre Requiem,
“...aeternum dona eis, Domine.”
to bring down the thick velvet curtain of night.
And then a Robin sings the Last Rites.
All this, in honour of the Crane bag of the Bird Mother,
with its Ogham runes and snakes' eggs blue
that birth the laws to protect the young,
and those who will later come along
to live under Her Eye of the Moon.
© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, January 2024
- Genre
- Ambient