unimpeachable Farmer’s Almanac summonsed us
high-tide was 3.89 feet at 1243 hours itd be 1.04 feet at
1835 in another halfhour
we knelt together among the warm stones and sand
the Pacific receding furthur than we had ever seen before at
the cove
the surf crying out from under the belly of the sea-carved land bridge to-day was mute and in its stead was a susurrant plea a seductive coo
its cool breath feathers stroking our ears
the hawks eyes glittered like the coloured seaglass we sought
once abundant were fortunate now if we can salvage small bits
and pieces
yet no matter their size their facets and colours are breathtaking as we capture themdeftly tickling the stones sifting sand with our fingers where they hide
betrayed on confessional strands of unfrequented beachheads
our accomplices low-tide the cove we descended into
the seaside hawk was unexpectedperhaps as surprised as we
at first blush suspicious
then she understood there was no calumny in our sudden appearance
we respected her bristled patience
our silent awe our reverence coaxed her far better than puny words
might have
she kept her place her talons poised ticking the flaky metal and
let us pass unmolested not more than an arms reach away
as we did she looked away regally casting her eyes on the shining
sea the abrupt tawny rocks
maybe we were a curiosity
though nothing more
she might not remember us
we would not assume what she might
but this afternoon the stones and sand under our fingers under her gaze felt radiant and alive and the suddenness of the seaglass peering up at us rapture was only intensified by the reality of lifting our eyes finding each others
then lifting them just a bit further
realising her eyes on ours
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