Wings

Wings written by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

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 As a blue-necked mallard alighting in a pool
 Among marsh-marigolds and splashing wet
 Green leaves and yellow blooms, like jewels set
 In bright, black mud, with clear drops crystal-cool,
 Bringing keen savours of the sea and stir
 Of windy spaces where wild sunsets flame
 To that dark inland dyke, the thought of her
 Into my brooding stagnant being came.
 
 And all my senses quickened into life,
 Tingling and glittering, and the salt and fire
 Sang through my singing blood in eager strife
 Until through crystal airs we seemed to be
 Soaring together, one fleet-winged desire
 Of windy sunsets and the wandering sea.

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