I saw the white crane
Flight of fancy
I saw the white crane fly over.
Good omen, you say? Maybe.
I saw the white crane
Ranging over the desert for me,
Kent's shingle hinterland,
Migrating from its western origin.
None believed the visitation.
Heron, they said...
No way.
Too small, I say, too grey.
This bird was magnificent,
God-like in its span of wing,
The whitest thing I'd ever seen.
I saw the crane again
In a city faraway, in Catalonia.
My homage, touristic, voyeuristic.
Was the visitation a blessing
On the temple's gate,
The holy family's dwelling?
There's no telling.
I wonder what the ghostly creature portends.
Death, a resurrection, a new life?
Joining this world and the next, perhaps.
I saw a white crane fly over.
Precious memory,
I'll ne'er see thee again.
About the Creator
Raymond G. Taylor
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
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Comments (5)
Such beautiful birds! And this is a lovely poem!
Oooo, I would have been so excited if I saw one. Also, the word "the" is repeated in your third line. Loved your poem!
I craned my neck around to see, & found it there within my eye, blinding me with its droppings.... Nah, yours is much better, Raymond.
Definitely an omen.
Just seeing a crane is awesome. Captivating poem