Pink-footed geese flew across us this morning, moving from Inner Farne on to the land beyond the dunes. It seems like yesterday that we all stood in almost exactly the same sunny spot on the shoreline as they squawked their way in the other direction, off to I cannot imagine where. We waved them goodbye and hoped we would see them again – nothing being certain in this uncertain world. Much has transpired since we saw them last; much remains the same.
Those whose faces are turned always towards the sun’s rising See the living light on its path approaching, As over the glittering sea where in the tide’s rising and falling The sea beasts bask, on the Isles of Farne. Aidan and Cuthbert saw God’s feet walking Each day towards all who on world’s shores await his coming. That we too, hand in hand, have received the unending morning.
I turn towards Barnaby and then towards Newman, running into them, nudging their necks as I jump in greeting. It is warmer than spring and hotter than August today. The circle is turning, too.