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

long

razor black beak.

Something unseen–

gulp, gulp, gulp,

digesting sea creatures,

sometimes hidden

in clumps of seaweed.

Recall.  Civilizations,

nations

but

dribble castles: 

Here now,

back in the sea,

tomorrow. 

The white bird

knows not to fall

for what man made.

Not tripping,

she takes notes,

in passing:

an upside down

rubber

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. 

“And,

“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