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By Margaret Montrose (Aphrodite)

FIG Short


(Inspired by a vision from my little yacht-cockpit
lying anchored in the river on an Autumn Evening)

Oh Flight of Birds where’er go ye
So bravely flying?
You face The Light, your wings are dight
By sunset dying.

Oh Flight of Birds, clear sinking sun
Bright pinions paling;
I’d love to know where’re you go
High o’erhead sailing.

Oh Flight of Birds what makes you go
In Autumn wheeling?
Across the fields, along the wires,
Our wonder stealing?

Oh Flight of Birds what drives you on
When leaves die, fleeing?
For all your strife is there new life
Through mystic seeing?

Oh Flight of Birds does joy inspire
Your constant crying?
Is journey long, oh are you strong
enough for trying?

You cry aloud, your call is proud,
What has you soaring?
What’s wrong with here, delight of mere,
Fine Tidal Shoreing?

What see those eyes raised in the skies
Forever peering?
The view must show some gorgeous glow
To power your steering

Oh flight of birds what guides desire
To keep you straying?;
What mystic fire, what sights inspire
So no dismaying.

Are desert sands with verdant strands
Compass providing?
Has ancient lore sought self-same shore
Your passage guiding?

Oh Flight of Birds, your arrows decked
With sunset showing
The thin fine clouds, serene like shrouds
O’er your leaving flowing.

Such mystic things are your beating wings
Their pinions sighing;
You seem assured, are they inured
To journey’s trying?

What act of faith drives on that wraith
So surely heading?:
I would that I could make such try
To guide my treading.

Oh Flight of Birds you fade like day,
My heart’s left sighing;
Your vision bright’s no more in sight,
Like love lost lying.

Oh Flight of Birds what’s your Horizon
Your daring firing?
Without your wings we lack the things
For Hope inspiring.

Oh Splendid Birds please tell us all
Of what’s your knowing?;
You do those things which make you kings
What are you showing?

Ah, gorgeous Birds, you’ve told your story
By flying South to the sinking Sun;
To tell us the truth through all your glory
All must be Free before our day is done.

© Margaret Montrose


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