Darkness dawns,
star-dots peek through sky’s scrim.
Moonless night serene,
lulled to sleep by wave’s quiet lapping.
Raucous cormorants
rudely accompany sun’s rising.
Wings slapping, loudly thrumping
against ocean’s waves.
Herd-like,
glistening wet black bodies lift,
hover low then soar.
Migration has begun.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De is hosting Quadrille Monday, asking us to include the word “lift” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
Video filmed several years ago from the deck of our annual rental in Provincetown, at the very tip of Cape Cod. Amazing to see….many more and much louder ruckus than you hear and see with the video!
lillian the home poet 