By Dennis Ross
shaggy dark grey in the predawn light,
balances one-legged on the beach.
Like a compass needle
his long beak points
into the brisk on-shore wind,
towards the grey-blue waves
now with brilliant orange dancers
cavorting along their crests.
A tidal pool mirror picks up
the pulsing orange beat as the sun
just breaks the horizon.
We stand fifteen feet apart
staring into a vacant place
where silence is a pathway
not an absence,
where the freshening torrent of light
revises bird and man alike.
