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A spring day
Stands breathless …
Waiting like Elijah on the mount
To hear the voice of God.
Each year I’m caught again
In the same thrill
Of surprise …
Like the sudden visit
From old friends.
Their first cry
Breaks into my heart
With the joy of expectancy …
Awaiting the vast theatre
Of the sky to be filled
With their magnificent presence.
There they are!
Sixty to a hundred strong …
throwing their victory “V”
Against a contrary sky
Of sullen clouds and winds
That would well make
Cowards out of men …
I watch in reverence
As they pass …
Forming and re-forming
With the giant strokes
Of their mighty wings …
And as their cries subside
I hear the whisper of the wind—
“They never, never fly alone!”
from Restoration, April 1980
