Passenger

I am in the body of an immense silver bird    streaming

through wind and sky. 

It is the night’s time.

All the other passengers

are asleep, but I am awake somewhere over the Atlantic

looking through a window into darkness.

It seems poets are always looking through windows

trying to bring a poem to light. 

In these speeding moments

I think of how I am often a passenger

wondering about that place I am going – remembering

the sun in my sister’s smile and the fading blue images

of the friends I leave behind. 

How I love them.  How I carry with me the memory of their dreams – 

Even now we are all moving and streaming through the

Starlit darkness. 

Once   an immense white horse came running to me

out of a fog        over a hill

across a pasture.  

Now the sun comes rising

over the wings of birds and Ireland

and I have crossed the ocean again.