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One afternoon near Lightning Ridge in May 
were pelicans in hundreds in the sky, 
long permutating hours at their play. 
All men must stop and wonder when they fly. 
So perfect, so precise, so well - controlled. 
Formations indergoing magic change 
in slow and stately grace, with joy, unfold 
their gift of instantaneous interchange. 
How marvellous it is to be aware 
that hard and cruel as nature has to be, 
there is still time to throw away all care 
and let the spirit of delight fly free. 

Do pelicans on Earth, in joke, belie 
the ecstacy that they evoke on high?  
[from the Desert of my Heart and Mind by F.J.A.Pockley 1912-1990]