The Flight
I saw the herons trooping across the evening sky
And wondered how far their white wings flew
What perils neath cosmic clouds their patient path defy
What change awaits them none ever knew
The call of summer seduces them home, and pastures
Here are fair no more; the unknown lures
Of long left home, when winter loomed, soft comfort ruptures
Each wing changing place the flight endures.
She does not yet come though seasons change from fair to foul
And the heart each sunset bleats as reeds
That whistle and tremble when the wild winching winds howl
Hauling bowels up to groan its needs
Some magic where the white herons brace against the light
To reach, keeps captive too her tired heart
Of this world where every day ends with dark callous night
And resolves with each sunset depart
O then that I were a heron to fly now to you
Or else away to some pasture sweet
Where Dunstan River keeps flowing like promise true
And flowers there beyond our deceit
For they do not ask to be loved, but in beauty pure
Gave ease to a schoolboy sheltered there
While school left him weary with irrelevance and uproar
And ever since for solace thought goes there.
Where not heron nor faithless love my come, or worst leave
A child, like a father's sudden death,
In pain, to suffer withering conflicts and to grieve
Each sunset, my forever regret
The marriage I could not count on making talent king
The crablike envy that tore my wings
And I late to healing proved nothing by suffering
While Dunstan River her comfort sings.
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