Does the eagle know
Glory in the day’s end sun
Or my eyes alone
Does the eagle know
Glory in the day’s end sun
Or my eyes alone
Wild seas dash upon the rocks
Which seem brittle and broken
But hardened they are
Resilient and determined
A stone will falter
Here or there
But the armour never fails
In the end
It is the storm that breaks
Upon the hardened shore
The buoy sings
In broken meter
While gull cries
As steel
Rings out its soul’s lament
Rolling on the seas becalmed
Which lap gently at the marker
Slings languid clapper
Side-to-side
Until it dings
Seeking gull’s reply
For bereaved augment
Not one to be remiss
The gull
Its song amiss
Takes wing with foulest aural screech
Through which the many souls buried
Here
By storm
Beseech
For they that never heard the bell
But discovered rocky shoal
With sundered timbers of their hull
Forsook their invitation to God’s holy hell
No, not that descent
Instead remain beneath the sea
Without repent
To pull the chain of their lament
This Melfort Bell
Forever
Out of meter
Comes the night
With celestial swagger
Its vanguard in scarlet, violet and indigo
Descends the void dotted by galaxies and stars, a planet or two
Beyond the dim beacons built by small creatures
To penetrate the darkness they fear
Languid moments follow
Sun’s final thoughts
Bounds the sky
From golden to indigo
Wherein abides such grace
There I, manifest, serenity
Sun departs the day
With drawn-out sigh
As do I
Long exhalation of a day’s excesses
Collected in mind, heart and spirit
They flow from me
An outgoing tide
To lap against the shoreline
Of night’s welcome emptiness
Now breathe in the stillness
As the wind and the sea
Whisper lullabies
Until even the sparrows and gulls
Are content in the descending silence
Stars and planets step down from the sky
Chasing the departed sun
While I contemplate
My own next steps
Then decide to follow
The beacon’s example
And become the light
Choose to rise
Into glorious dawn
Rather than follow the heavens
Into celestial night
The ebb
Of tides and life
Reveals the glories concealed
By full flood
I come for the storms
To be confronted
By nature
At her extremes
To remind myself
Of things much more
Than my self
In my calm lagoon
Of self import
I am touched
By what others
Might call God
Though I admit
To no more knowledge
Than such is divine
With I
In my little i
Of the storm
That is existence