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]