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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