a gull came winging
“A remarkable observer of the ways of water, wing, wind, and word.”“A sensitive gaze turns inward to make a thought-provoking connection.”
A gull came winging, wafting, gleaming white,hewing to the mirror of the sea;Below, painted on the glassy sea,the mirror image of the gull in flight;The gull rose higher, wheeling into dawn;its pale reflection dissolved into the sea,shimmered for a moment, and was gone,lingering only in my memory.
The New York Times Spelling Bee attracts a large following of enthusiastic word lovers who delight in the daily challenge of ferreting out a list of from a seemingly-random array of seven letters. A handful of Bee solvers delights in the challenge of composing poetry, essays, and more with words from the daily game. A gull came winging compiles a selection of work by one of these “Hive poets” known as “peregrine from the rocky shore.” This volume, the fourth in a series, presents 100 poems, including some thirty not previously released, that explore our relationship with the natural world, as well as meditations on memory, solitude, and love. Readers who have come to appreciate peregrine’s poetry will be delighted to find 17 new sonnets in this volume, along with more poems in the Bartlett Bay series.
The New York Times Spelling Bee attracts a large following of enthusiastic word lovers who delight in the daily challenge of ferreting out a list of from a seemingly-random array of seven letters. A handful of Bee solvers delights in the challenge of composing poetry, essays, and more with words from the daily game. A gull came winging compiles a selection of work by one of these “Hive poets” known as “peregrine from the rocky shore.” This volume, the fourth in a series, presents 100 poems, including some thirty not previously released, that explore our relationship with the natural world, as well as meditations on memory, solitude, and love. Readers who have come to appreciate peregrine’s poetry will be delighted to find 17 new sonnets in this volume, along with more poems in the Bartlett Bay series.
A gull came winging | poems by peregrine198 pages, softcover, 6x9 (15x23 cm), 198 pages, November 2024
ISBN 979-8-34-766725-3 9798347667253
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Selected poems from A gull came winging
As if in shining (A sonnet from the rocky shore)
At this, the very edge of the sea,away from city noise and city lights,the dark is deeply black, a velvet framefor stars: a vast array of lacy lights.The stars shine here with lyric clarity,as if in shining, they have tales to tellof distant suns, of cosmic rarities,of all the wishes wished by lonely souls.I tarry long to listen for their wordsthat I might catch and somehow fashion them, as with some light-filled starry, airy clay,into a vessel for the night’s bright truths,to carry with me secrets of the starsfrom this, the very edge of the sea.
At this, the very edge of the sea,away from city noise and city lights,the dark is deeply black, a velvet framefor stars: a vast array of lacy lights.The stars shine here with lyric clarity,as if in shining, they have tales to tellof distant suns, of cosmic rarities,of all the wishes wished by lonely souls.I tarry long to listen for their wordsthat I might catch and somehow fashion them, as with some light-filled starry, airy clay,into a vessel for the night’s bright truths,to carry with me secrets of the starsfrom this, the very edge of the sea.
Lupines (Benediction)
Each day I walk out on the old dirt roadtowards the neck of the rocky cape.Few come down this track; the buttercupsspring up, blooming in the grassy center,flags of new nankeen, meekly gold,shining in the gentle morning sun.
I came again today to check the lupines.They don’t need my wondering eyes, of course,to speed them on their way toward perfection;They raise their faces to the arching sky,toward that acme of deep azure blueto which all lupines surely must aspire.
I make my way toward the tiny fieldthat in a week will be a mass of blue,before which I may drop down on my knees,yearning to embrace each burst of blue,the blue that makes my sad heart ache afresh,to whisper my 'amen to all the world.
Each day I walk out on the old dirt roadtowards the neck of the rocky cape.Few come down this track; the buttercupsspring up, blooming in the grassy center,flags of new nankeen, meekly gold,shining in the gentle morning sun.
I came again today to check the lupines.They don’t need my wondering eyes, of course,to speed them on their way toward perfection;They raise their faces to the arching sky,toward that acme of deep azure blueto which all lupines surely must aspire.
I make my way toward the tiny fieldthat in a week will be a mass of blue,before which I may drop down on my knees,yearning to embrace each burst of blue,the blue that makes my sad heart ache afresh,to whisper my 'amen to all the world.