Poems of Nature and Humankind

A strip of land like a finger
sticks out from the continent
and scratches the sea right
where the sea is weakest.

Foam washes white
the line in which sea
and land meet and
land and sea mate.

Then there's the sky
that brushes sea and land
heaving waves that rock
the seething scar between them.

With feet in the foam
two fishermen glance higher and
higher, rods piercing the sky
where the sky is softest.

The men point at a shadow
crossing their path above them
moving from land to sea

and already distant.
They breathe one more wave
then it's time to go home.