shape-shifting silver seas
ribbed and rippling
writing alien script
high tides erase
bound by brown patches
a tidal maze
tiny limpid fish
braver than your bigger peers
drifting as they dart
moments under water
misshapen lumps of dead coral rise from the sea-shore
miniatures of the karst monolithic islands of coastal southeast asia
a tiny archipelago facing constant nightmare tsunami
a murder of crows harasses a hawk,
out to steal the meal that wriggles in its talons.
the hawk giving its all to fighting crow will lose its squirming prey.
no crow is match for a hawk,
but no hawk is match for the murder,
and so all birds go hungry.
The early morning sun warms the silvery shafts of a eucalyptus to a buttery yellow.
That seems a fine bit of grace,
until I see a hawk whose brown cowl is glowing gold in the same light,
as it perches watchfully on the one corner of a dilapidated building
that receives rising rays.