Mary A Abel
Majestic crane, passing overhead,
where is your mate? You fly solo now
yet once you soared wing to wing.
Is it the hunter who brought her down
in these fields you fly each day until the
darkening sky coaxes you to earth?
Does the music of the night carry rest
or will you merely bide, listening for the
first sounds of dawn to summon you
once more to the sky?
Be patient, mighty crane, for you shall find
her in the stillness of time where all seekers
gather for the last harvest.