By Allan Roy Andrews


Geese screech southward in boomerang families,
chasing the brightening horizon.
Phalanxes against a gunmetal sky,
they bend to no wind or word
save the Master’s and bear down the cloud-pocked
boulevard of heaven their servant songs.

Lone stragglers trail in the East, widows, spinsters
or orphans whose undisclosed sin left them adrift.
Darting, swirling, they chase the winging wedge,
dancing like gypsies behind a royal caravan.

Suddenly, catching a cross-wind or zephyr,
one alone streaks into the flock and quietly —
without ceremony or celestial explanation —
flies wedded to the winged oneness.


*Originally published in
Theology Today, Vol. 58, No. 2, July 2001, page 222.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s