Flight. A Poem by John Noonan

They also heard our call high
on African trees,
Steering by stars they flew home
repossessing spring woodlands,
soon a soft voice directed
towards houses across our valley
can touch song to soul,
cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo,
cocooning, cocooning –
wild notes of hope.

………………….

John Noonan’s poetry has been published in magazines and anthologies in Ireland and abroad.