Flight

A BIRD may curve across the sky--

A feather of dusk, a streak of song;

And save a space and a bird to fly

There may be nothing all day long.

Flying through a cloud-made place

A bird may tangle east and west,

Maddened with going, crushing space

With the arrow of its breast.

Though never wind nor motion bring

It back again from indefinite lands,

The thin blue shadow of its wing

May cross and cross above your hands.

Hazel Hall

Twilight

TIPTOEING twilight,

Before you pass,

Bathe light my spirit

As dew bathes grass.

Quiet the longing

Of my hands that yearn,

As you fold the flower

And hush the fern.

Guard me with shadows

To fortify

My failing purpose,

My tired eye,

That in your stillness

I may relight

My faith's frail candle

Before the night.

Hazel Hall