terns

stoic terns
burning hunger
discerning
sustenance
in churning
slurry
salty brine
sweeping the sky
sliding aloft
on whirling
buffeting soft
wind strings
The stomach
sings
the siren song
of danger
The Loch rings
the valley range
with a calling,
And terns long
to fall
from the safety
of the heights;
Mustering
the energy
of fright
to breech
the stark wall;
Wing tips arc
outreaching
as wings slip
mightily
through the crashing
dark squall,
thrashing and
fighting to take
from the waves
another day’s
chance;
Raving in triumph,
a screech
dancing in echoes
ringing skyward,
dripping, winging
reaching
for the safety
of the heights

————-

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling

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