against the black mountain
beneath the clouded skies
above the leafless trees
beyond the dull roar
of the swollen gray river
the white bird turns
in relief
I turn
and wend my way homeward.
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus Romans 8:1
Commenting on my own poem. I went for a walk along the river on a gray day. I saw one seagull flying just above the treeline, white and pure in stark contrast to the muted gray and brown and murky green of the day. It was a relief to me to see such beauty, and to realize that the context of the grayness made it stand out all the more. So the duplicity of the one bird standing in relief to the environment, and the moment of seeing the bird standing in relief to my melancholy, occurred to me as a perfect duplicity as the turning point in the poem.
I know what you mean. There is a special quality to a bird’s whiteness on such a day, a striking purity you don’t see on sunny days.