KATHY EARSMAN

BY A FRIEND OF MINE

Hidden Things

This morning’s rosy dawn has warmed the sand,
a sea-bird holds the air; its feathers blush
with sky. Cool tones fold into warmth, it lands
where lilac ripples underlie the rush
of gentle surges on the shore. The tide
is out. The beach is hushed, a little boat
lies nodding, bobbing, sleeping on its side.
A filigree of lacey bubbles floats
a moment, then is gone. The sea-bird strikes
down viciously — it knows where molluscs live:
their tiny breaths betray them. Now he spikes
them in his bill. He takes what nature gives.

I gasp for tender things I’ll never tell —
in silence, secrets live inside my shell.

© Copyright Kathy Earsman

Honorable Mention
Net Poetry & Arts Competition
October, 2003

BIRD RAL copy

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