Poetry
by Phil Brown
THE IBIS
Just on dusk the Ibis come
In fleet formation from the sun;
Spread across the evening sky,
Silently they're sailing by.
Far above the busy town
Beaks are curling to the ground:
They are gliding, free as clouds,
Over bridges, cars and crowds
To a place of secret rest
Where the wistful Ibis nest;
Sleeping in their birchen beds
They are nodding dreamy heads,
Til the east is light again
Across the world of waking men;
Then, before the rising sun,
Just on dawn the Ibis come.
by Phil Brown
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