The Darker Angel of the North
Soft, silent, you came
With the breeze over the pines,
a northern angel,
wings spread,
Feathers like fingers,
Feeling, catching
Every nuance.
A master of energy,
you exploit the faintest
currents of air.
You hardly seem to move,
No beat, no flap, just
a hint of tilt, and an
opening like a fan,
of wingtip and tail.
You close the span,
narrow the profile,
incline the head
bend the wings
and you are a missile,
swift across the valley.
And then, sensing,
A rise of air and heat,
you spread out, stop,
tilt, spiral
up, up, up,
high, so high,
you are just a dot
against a patch of bluer sky.
Published on:
June 17, 2009
