Ocean in View
       

I've come to the sea as I come
to the mountains
which proves my ineptness
                                            ever
the unexpected guest who arrives
to find his meal kept warm.

A sandpiper hops near,
quick and inelegant, hands behind back
                                                                then flight
which shames me into looking, looking
away.

I've come far to be near,
soft rain overnight
                                soft rain now
swallowed by the sea, even
the sound of it swallowed
                                          my body
moving with me like a bookmark
to tell of where I've been.

We move, as we must, from the hands of few
                                                                        When dropped, we look up.
When bathed, we sing of cleanliness.
Let the morning be bird-filled:
                                                  to the hands of many.
we'll speak of wind.

Tweet
Copyright © 2017 Philip Pardi All rights reserved
from The Cincinnati Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission