Wings

I imagine the Spirit
as a winged creature-
Some days her wings are strong and brave
like those of a heron
flapping gracefully over water
not climbing too steeply
but showing clear evidence of potential
coming to rest
with passion and with poise.
Some days her wings are papery and fragile
like those of an earwig
demanding careful measuring
before being unfurled
For being open to such vulnerability
comes at a price.
Some days her wings are swift and beating
like those of a dove
their flapping takes energy
but covers the distance
and reaches her goal
And some days her wings soar on the currents
like fulmars or eagles
their noiseless whisper
carrying them on
to lofty places
The wings of the Spirit
accommodating all kinds of bodies
accomplishing all kinds of tasks
bearing in all shapes and sizes
the gracious love of God.

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