Since this is the first Sunday of Advent, I thought I would share a poem from my book ‘The Course of Our Seasons’. It is based on an experience we had with friends while on vacation many years ago and is one of my first poems when I started writing again.
It began with the sound of wings in the air.
We were walking with friends
behind their Minnesota farmhouse,
Fields of cornstubble stretching to the winter gray horizon.
Suddenly from under our feet–
a heart stopping flash —
All feathers and noise and wings–
A vision of gold calling in alarm.
With our pulses pounding,
we watched the pheasant disappear.
We laughed at our fear
And marveled at the beauty and wonder
of what we had seen.
This must be what the shepherds felt
In a field a long time ago,
When they flushed
A covey of angels.