by the sea a grizzled hawk

above

           clasping at a rusted metal-rail fence 

                                                                      a grizzled hawk watches us intently

she scrutinizes the wet rounded stones slipping and turning under our fingers

which usually are underwater but this afternoon are revealed 

by an approaching low-tide the unimpeachable Farmer’s Almanac summonsed

the sea is slipping from a high-tide of 3.89 feet at 1243 hours to 1.24 feet at 1835 hours

it was just beyond 1600 hours when we knelt together on the warm stones and sand

the Pacific had receded furthur than we had ever seen before at this cove

the surf crying out from under the belly of the sea-carved land bridge to-day is gagged

and in its stead is a susurrate plea  a seductive coo

its warm breath like feathers stroking our ears

the she-hawks eyes glitter like the coloured sea glass we seek

once abundant we are fortunate now if we can salvage small bits and pieces

though no matter their size

their facets and colours are breathtaking as we capture them

deftly tickling the stones and sifting the sand with our fingers where they hide and are betrayed

on the confessional strands of unfrequented beach-heads

our accomplices  the low-tide and cove we descended into

the seaside hawk was unexpected 

and she was surprised as we 

at first blush she was suspicious                                                                     

then she seemed to understand there was no calumny in our sudden appearance

we respected her bristled patience  

our silent awe and reverence coaxed her far better than our puny words might have

she held her place  her talons poised at the flaky metal

she let us pass unmolested  scarcely an arms breadth away  and as we did she looked away  
regally  casting her eyes on the shining sea and the abrupt jagged rocks

perhaps we were a curiosity

though nothing more

she might not remember us

we would not assume what she might

but that afternoon  the stones and sand under our fingers  under her gaze

we never felt more radiant or alive

                                                and the suddenness of the sea glass peering up at us

                                                                                                                 its rapture

only intensified the reality of lifting our eyes to find each others

and then lifting them

just a bit further

and realise her eyes on ours

2352,  Thursday, Valentine’s Day,  14  2. 13