They’re winging home.
From here, a black check mark on a gray expanse.
Up there, hammering hearts, hum of wings, and call so wild
Fill the ear; my eye with pinions countless motion.
Motion, blue-gray blur a whirring Omnipotent
Instilled within each breast, to lead to follow.
Followers following leader against all
Flood of wind, damage, fatigue.
Their eye rests not;
Breast steel forces them forward, or intermittently
Down, taking havens of rest and nourishment - or to retrieve
A single faltering fellow, or alien to mark as brother.
Up again and on their swift way, a marvel
Of direction by design, guts and fire,
Strength and sense in number -
Sure to wing us home.
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