All is gray…

Above, beneath, beyond…

Three horizontal planes

of neutral gray overlaid

one against another…

Land and sky and sea…

Blurred seams erased.

Stand here with me…

The shale, a coarse voice

beneath our feet…

The air a sigh…

Nearing our step,

the lapping edge of foam-

laced, shapeshifting sea.

(Pay that element’s

inconstant promise

little heed.)

Look instead beyond…

Into the distance…

There –

Gesture strokes the air…

A scratch of darkness

within that vast expanse…

No other form to speak

of its relative dimensions…

Undeterred,

it comes,

it grows.

A bird?

Eagle, Albatross, or Tern…

Can you discern its form?

Tell me what you see…

Patience,

patience…

Its shape defines slowly…

Slope of yellow beak…

Compact body,

smooth and white

Languid wings –

gray-stroked, stretched wide –

gently stir the space it occupies.

A gull —

Free , unfettered…

Clear-eyed perspective…

Visitant of the in-betweens.

Above the shore it hovers…

Wings beating noiselessly…

Now, its form in white neon light

outlined…

A stroke of gleaming bright,

it dives and thrusts —

into susurrating shale —

its beak,

plucks out some secret

nestled there…

Departs.

Returns

to those very planes of gray

from which

it came.

— C.Birde, 11/20