Vaulting into flight
Drawn darkly against cliffs
The frigates dip silent, and rise,
Sidling past the unpeopled rocks
A soundless courser sails,
Chasing each wave back unto its gyre.
All the while
Each brilliant bower rustles,
Shivers like a startled thing
You strike fear
Into the very land.
Against it all you are a mark,
An ill warding,
Placed as if on purpose –
What meaning would I give you,
You cutting breakers like a knife?
For a spearing shape like yours must be a prophecy –
It must be death to come.
Whose doom do you portend, black bird?
But then, must I saddle you
With such a heavy thing as meaning?
What a flaw in human thinking,
To see a death
In everything
