Upon White Wings

Halfway​
through
The morning climb
The sky broke…
Open, pierced with light
From the southern sky.

The northwest horizon
Billowed on
In rebellious plumes
of deep purple and grey
Swelling dark giants
unwilling to relent.

Caught in contrast,
In between​,
Was a most beautiful sea
of white gulls
Stark
Aglow.

So effortless
The ease by which
They rode the tumult
Of wind,
So agile
And weightless
Against the heavy sky,
That they
could be mistaken
As small pieces
Of loose paper
Drifting,
swirling,
and free.

And then I knew
For truth
That secretly written
Upon their
Skyward
Sun-bathed forms
Were the hopes
And prayers
Of many,
Onward and ever
delicately carried
upon
white wings.

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