It began as tiny as a dust mote Dancing in the mist Of the swirling waterfall Hundreds of feet deep in the narrow canyon Then circling, circling Upward and outward As if on golden tendrils Increasing in size As it rose Finally soaring White head and tail radiant in the sun Huge wings outstretched to catch the thermal It burst into open space Exploding our senses Filling our souls And leaving us breathless Until it became again a speck Swallowed by the infinite blue Of a perfect summer’s sky On a perfect summer’s day.
Jean Munsee
This article appears in Glory Over Land and Sea.