These Gathered Wings

Spirited away in the dark night,
I travelled to distant lands, other times
of strange expectation.
I return tired, the night work
taking more than day.
Crows circle in the morning wind,
the light of the sun a golden streak
on the rippling sea.
Always the going and return,
my heart wants rest,
to come still beside the moving water
and know I might remain
even as the tide rushes south.
To navigate the works of man
has been my love and calling
yet now I want to find mooring,
a deep set anchor in this sheltered bay
and settle in with the ancient stones
to weather fast the storms of winter.
I’ll grow like moss upon the rock,
speak each day with the quiet trees.
Silent as eagle I’ll stare across the sunlit water
and let the warmth find me
inside these gathered wings.

 

 


photograph by Linda Ethier

 

 


B Flat Blues 🎶

Before first light
trucks clang on the street,
the noise of traffic,
a glimmer in the east.
Wind stirs the trees,
hints of yellow showing
in the slow turn toward autumn.
I’m ready to let go the burden,
the many faces of might have been,
and take heart in the morning.
The B flat blues plays
somewhere in the distance;
as leaves fall
that mournful sound
turns the pain of regret
into music.

 

 


photograph by Louis MacKenzie