a different kind of poem today -- I wrote this one years ago. We were walking along a beach, with a fresh breeze blowing in from the sea, and the huge clouds of an approaching storm rising inky-dark over the ocean. It was late afternoon, and the sun was behind us (inland -- we are on the east coast of Australia), but its raysilluminated a gull that was flying high into the gathering wind against the backdrop of clouds. This was an attempt to capture the experience ..
To watch the gull rise, sharp in vivid white,
Against the greyness of the storm-dark sky:
Tiny in its defiance, swift and bright:
Against the lowering heaviness, to fly!
To rise, unburdened by the shackling earth,
Into the heart of storm. To lift brave wing,
Untrembled, in the place of tempest's birth.
To rise, to fly, to soar, and (yes!) to sing!
I am of earth, but oh! my spirit lifts
In a fierce joy. The wind is in my face.
The winging and the singing are His gifts:
The sweet empowering of blessed grace.
Stretched then, taut-raised twixt sky and earth and sea,
I shall rejoice to be what He has made.
His are my wings. His soaring love for me
Has called me forth, and holds me unafraid.