WINTER AT WYE RIVER
A lone grey bird
Dim dipping, far-flying
Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
Of night and the sea
And the stars and the storms.
Out over the darkness it wavers and hovers
Out into the gloom it swings and batters
Out into the wind and the rain and the vastness
Out into the pit of a great black world.
Where fogs do battle, sky driven, sea blown
Love of mist and rapture of flight
Glories of chance, hazard of death
On eager pulsating wings.
Out, out into the deep
Of that great dark world
Beyond the long borders
And the drift of sundering waves
Are lost and gone
On the tides that plunge and rear and crumble.