Thursday, June 21, 2012

The White Bird, a poem by Mike Marcellino

St. Augustine Beach, Florida 

The White Bird
By Mike Marcellino

Take time with the natural. 
Slow down. 
Don’t miss the beauty,
the small wonders.

Watch and
follow the white bird
on the shore
standing on spindle legs,
like crooked tar twigs.
She paces the wet sand
in a state of consecrated grace,
too lightweight
to leave prints.
Fearless, she hops tiny waves,
fluttering her wings,
in no particular hurry.
On occasion 
peck, peck, peck
into sand and shallow surf,
spearing what she captures
inside her
razor black beak.
Something unseen–
gulp, gulp, gulp,
digesting sea creatures,
sometimes hidden
in clumps of seaweed.

Recall.  Civilizations,
dribble castles: 
Here now,
back in the sea,

The white bird
knows not to fall
for what man made.
Not tripping,
she takes notes,
in passing:
an upside down
flip flop;
plastic of every detail
imagined -
caps, toys and containers;
a single leather soul;
thrown up paper -
a manufactured jelly fish,
of the faintest blue
performing a tide pool ballet
on the beach. 

“Pray you,” chirps the white bird silently.
“Don’t mix the gods up with your very nature.” 

In her tracks she left behind two shells
worn ocean smooth,
one white, the other black.

The White Bird by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2012

On the beach.  

Photos by Mike Marcellino Copyright 2012