Cape Song

Reclined on the scarp

reading about orogeny

at a perfect angle

to shell the sound of the

dragging & summoning

of mountains,

I think of the soft-bodied

breathing quaintly,

in that brief interstitial


____

In the evening

at the hostel

a woodcock’s wings

with the air

make music

with their outermost

feathers

known as primaries—

of first importance


_____

Flood flow, slack,

summer berm,

neap & spring,

full, waxing,

may we always be

on dunes,

the moon

above our rippling

forms, tenuous
 

above the wrack line

with hat flopped

to screen the sun,

swash hissing

down the spangled dregs

of eons unwitnessed,

clams below the cusp

breathing

between pull & push




we tide to our chambers

and flick on the lights,

make music

above the kettle pond,

tender for the night

fringe of being,

pitched to longing

meaning

& time




ebb flow, slack,

winter berm,

high & low,

waning, new—

beach grass

growing against

& for the moon

& wavering

but with joy.
 
More Poems by Michael Metivier