Poems February 1986
Night passage
After sundown quiet gulls fly
in from the ocean, over
houses facing the channel,
coming up like pigeons
in a shooting gallery.
No swivel-neck peering
for bits of refuse, or
jealous cries among them—
it’s too late for that.
A songbird grace as they pass
singly or in a tattered procession,
guided by afterlight on hilltops.
They’ll alight somewhere on the flats,
to feed at dawn in vegetable fields,
though I won’t be up to watch them—
just as well, for it might
spoil the mysterious portent
of this oneway travel at dusk:
gulls in the guise of doves,
reverent in holy flight, more
than they could hope to be.
I stand in shadow looking up,
wishing for more of them, urgently
flying in the dim, seeable night.
The last ones seem to know
they’re just ahead of the dark.
A Message from the Editors
Support our crucial work and join us in strengthening the bonds of civilization.
Your donation sustains our efforts to inspire joyous rediscoveries.
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 4 Number 6, on page 36
Copyright © 2023 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com
https://newcriterion.com/issues/1986/2/night-passage