Pilgrimage Poems

Of Thin Places and Puffins

Puffins.

How can you not chuckle?

Floating calmly on frigid swells, then

Spiraling flight reaching to the heights,

Leading to crash landings, bumping along

          With tiny fish held tightly

                   In bright orange beaks.

 

The wonder of thin places comes alive

          With the improbability of it all –

Witnessed in the ancient rhythm of their lives.

Sailing far off in arctic chill,

The bleak gray skies meeting cold sea below,

But returning always to their ancient cliffs,

         Lifted high on beating wings,

                As sure as winter turns to spring.

 Jim Melnyk, 5/29/2025

 

 

High on Sliabh Liag*

High on Sliabh Liag's edge

Ewe and lamb stand grazing,

Buffeted by winds and

Pelted by early summer's rain.

 

Whispering cliffs keep them safe,

Guiding footfalls from loose stone

And lifting spirits

For those who pause to listen.

 

Jim Melnyk 7/8/2025

*pronounced "Sleeve League"