Messenger of the Dreamtime
The whale rock thinks while waiting
for the warming tide laden with green gifts.
Murmers from the sea.
The sheer sheet of the sky is almost blank
holding the ocean's mirror.
The wings have all gone northward. White crowns
and hems. A thousand words from a thousand songs.
Carriers of mariner letters through the dreamtime.
Touched as we are by eagles we stayed. Unknowingly
pinning thoughts to the sky. Effortlessly
the eagles picked them up.
Words drawn into feathers and lifted
by the hollow flame of wind. Can't you see
what you have done?
Your little notes passengered by eagles
through a filmy door, enter the silence
of Great Spirit's dreaming.