Migrants

(Found here)

He is that great void

we must enter, calling

to one another on our way

in the direction from which

he blows. What matter

if we should never arrive

to breed or to winter

in the climate of our conception?

Enough we have been given wings

and a needle in the mind

to respond to his bleak north.

There are times even at the Pole

when he, too, pauses in his withdrawal,

so that it is light there all night long.

~R. S. Thomas