PATTERNS OF BIRDS

I had not really realized,

That by their silent passing

Above my watching head,

In the quiet blueness

Flecked with strands of peach,

The flowing patterns of the birds

Had etched themselves

Into the folded places

Of my waiting heart

And I was comforted

By the sight of them,

Winging strongly,

Patterned,

To their distant goal.

So turning now, away,

Their still and silent flow,

Moved with me into deep'ning dusk,

And I was not alone

Nor even yet afraid,

For the patterns of their winging

Had settled in my soul...

And I was somehow patterned with them,

Going onward to my goal.

By Jo Anzalone 1-19-2007

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