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,
Tails swivel-forked,
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).
