A Spotted Sandpiper at Little Compton
I teetered myself, in my excitement to see you, on those small boulders, I think you knew this, you teased me, lithe prankster bobbing and dipping and svipping, sprite over tang, chasing the foam, bill pip-pip-pip, all alone but for me and an indifferent gull overhead.
Terns at Wellfleet
We watched the darting terns, swirling,
A cloud that reassembled,
Down for the silvery fleck of fish,
Wings like scythes,
And we thought them “our terns,”
Belonging to this place and this time,
But for them it was only a portion of their lives,
More than a way station may be, but
Not the whole of their existence,
As they gained strength for the trek
Back to shores in Argentina.
Daniel A. Rabuzzi (he/his) has had two novels, five short stories, 30 poems, and nearly 50 essays/ articles published (www.danielarabuzzi.com). He lived eight years in Norway, Germany and France. He earned degrees in the study of folklore & mythology and European history. He lives in New York City with his artistic partner & spouse, the woodcarver Deborah A. Mills (www.deborahmillswoodcarving.com).