I’ve
seen you darting, surveying for a place to land.
In the tumult
and crash tide breaking in awe and weeping,
gone
silent their lament that arrived in the receding night.
Some running “tra la la la-ing” along.
All hear nothing, no signs, no signals, no
voice.
Behind a cloud shinning cool.
I saw
your stain glass wings shattered; an iridescent stain on the cruel concrete. Which
dumb St. George smote you? Whose unfeeling limb? Who so
reckless with your message?
Finally
landed.
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