A white wave of wings lifts from the water,
ghosts smaller than daughters in nightgowns,
smaller than me waking quick to my heartbeat.
White wings fill me with a warm winter wind,
dissolving edges and borders. Around me unfolds
a refuge quilt, pieced with dawn sky, water,
Like a kiss over your lips, my soul now hovers,
a falcon high above the wet fields and golden marsh.
Binoculars focusing, you slowly smile, sensing flow.
Turn, turn, return to me. Eyes wide, you turn
and enter the marshland of cranes, ducks and snow geese,
transforming into a rushing of wings. Migrate
white bird, spirit-man. Be my breath, my distant
Bright wings beating... His whisper is on Our tongue
God in geese, in Thou and I. The Sun now rising,