A murmuration of starlings swirl against the setting sun,
a parliament of rooks vote for home or beyond:
the farther field or the evening rest.
The quiet low of cattle,
the lamb’s call, its mother’s reply,
the stilling of the wind,
the pause of lift and sway in the alder boughs,
and the stream’s flow heard clearer
against the hush of the world.
‘My peace I give you,
not as the world gives,
not as the world gives.’
Then what is this ease of sunset into twilight?
hope for the night,
hope for tomorrow,
hope for my peace.’
What is this calm that stills my soul?
just part of me.’
‘As the flock moves against the set of sun,
As the rooks call for evening rest,
their shape is seen,
their decision made.
The cattle move to home,
the lamb to its dam.
For this I formed the world,
‘They know me, the birds and the beasts;
that gather in shifting shapes,
they know me, that go down to the sea,
that face the uncertain waves,
the herds, the flocks, the flowing deeps.
The world they know is me.
‘In the beginning,
in the empty dark,
I brooded like a mother hen
over shifting, uncertain waves,
breathing on them,
choosing the good,
the perfect conditions.
Waves of light,
waves of every kind,
mass, gravity, liquids, solids.
stars, planets, moons,
Tides and seasons of Sun and Moon,
bacteria, cells, vegetal life,
animal life, birds, mammals,
Man, you, in my image,
‘Oh! How I loved you;
love you still!’