Ralph Windle RW

I will return like a bird from the ocean.
Like the wing-weary migrant that limps from the sea;
With only the thread of an instinct to guide him,
I will return when you beckon to me.

When your voice in the storm is the tiniest whisper,
Your cries on the wind dissolve in the wave,
I will hear, and I’ll know, like the truth of the ages
The call of your love and the promise we gave.

And who else will know how you gave me the message?
How the ache of your longing locked surely on mine,
Across the deep spaces when no words were spoken;
Could they know, as we know, that this is the time?

Time to return, like a bird from the ocean.
Like the wing-weary migrant that limps from the sea;
With only the thread of an instinct to guide him,
I will return when you beckon to me.