Great Orme, Advent Sunday

Published on 15 Dec 2017

by John Lansey 

(After G M Hopkins: The Windhover)

 

Hopkins, your bright
Kestrel  horseman rode the air,
Challenged the wind.
 
Mine held above my head,
Hunched, head down,
Fierce hunter, watching
The tangled turf and gorse,
Shrugging wings’ shoulders,
Impatient of the wind -
Then, with a swerve and slip
Deep into the blue sky and
Down again to another sharp watch.
 
Which is the hunter? Am I
Still hunting the hidden God in the tussocks,
Blown away by the wind?
 
Or is God
Watching me, head bent,
Beak and claws ready to rend,
Waiting for me to break cover,
But sliding away when I think I’ve spotted him?
 
Patient to pounce only when I say yes? 
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