Airling Poem by Patrick Czyz

Gliding in fog
With tender wing beats to brush the air
Flys a single duck
‘Gainst scheming clouds
Suspending murky sights
That render no passage
Nor aperture of rest.
I, the organ of light, see
No home, no nest, no sea
On which to brood, to land.
O guest of gusts, witness the wind!
But to fathom a home of feathers then-
To loft solace in that aeire a sky
Gives flight to the very air a void
So writ with flutt'ring defiance
To the creator's quill that venges fall
To the underclouds all land escaped.







Gliding in fog
With tender wing beats to brush the air
Flys a single duck
‘Gainst scheming clouds
Suspending murky sights
That render no passage
Nor aperture of rest.
I, the organ of light, see
No home, no nest, no sea
On which to brood, to land.
O guest of gusts, witness the wind!
But to fathom a home of feathers then-
To loft solace in that aeire a sky
Gives flight to the very air a void
So writ with flutt'ring defiance
To the creator's quill that venges fall
To the underclouds all land escaped.







Gliding in fog
With tender wing beats to brush the air
Flys a single duck
‘Gainst scheming clouds
Suspending murky sights
That render no passage
Nor aperture of rest.
I, the organ of light, see
No home, no nest, no sea
On which to brood, to land.
O guest of gusts, witness the wind!
But to fathom a home of feathers then-
To loft solace in that aeire a sky
Gives flight to the very air a void
So writ with flutt'ring defiance
To the creator's quill that venges fall
To the underclouds all land escaped.






Gliding in fog
With tender wing beats to brush the air
Flys a single duck
‘Gainst scheming clouds
Suspending murky sights
That render no passage
Nor aperture of rest.
I, the organ of light, see
No home, no nest, no sea
On which to brood, to land.
O guest of gusts, witness the wind!
But to fathom a home of feathers then-
To loft solace in that aeire a sky
Gives flight to the very air a void
So writ with flutt'ring defiance
To the creator's quill that venges fall
To the underclouds all land escaped.


Gliding in fog
With tender wing beats to brush the air
Flys a single duck
‘Gainst scheming clouds
Suspending murky sights
That render no passage
Nor aperture of rest.
I, the organ of light, see
No home, no nest, no sea
On which to brood, to land.
O guest of gusts, witness the wind!