The Oystercatcher

I wrote this in Lewes, Delaware; from the ocean side of the beach you can see the container ships slowly turning to come into Delaware Bay, headed up to Philly. I shared the beach one morning with an oystercatcher; they look perpetually surprised, as though startled to remember that they are, indeed, a bird.

Source: Linda, Philly Bird Nerd

The Oystercatcher

The hidden channel turns each ship's flank
toward the beach by slow degree, undraping
the crated, uniform containered shape
that lay behind the horizon's smoky dot.
Quickly they slide off the stage when once
shown as they are. The oystercatcher and I
are left, eyeing one another with some
suspicion. He's come off the bar and waits
I guess for the tide to turn and open
up the oyster flat again. He knows
the beat, lives within patience standing
by the sullen oysters, waiting for their
inevitable gape, then swifter than his shape
twists the esoteric into guts and gullet.

(Published in Talking River Review, Winter 2001)