Ted Hughes — Crows Last Stand

Burning burning burning there was finally something The sun could not burn, that it had rendered Everything down to - a final obstacle Against which it raged and charred And rages and chars Limpid among the glaring furnace clinkers The pulsing blue tongues and the red and the yellow The green lickings of the conflagration Limpid and black - Crow's eye-pupil, in the tower of its scorched fort.