The Hunt

Wednesday, March 9, 2022


Nature, a beast 

In comparison to 

Such little flapping wings

Fighting the winds, currents

And blinding ocean mist

It struggles to stay aloft

In search of

A meal at sea

It dives but fails

In an effort to catch

An elusive silvery fish

Instead, it touches down 

Upon the wet sand 

And it looks at me

As though to ask

If I could spare 

A crumb to eat

Its wings so tired 

It walks my way

On the tiniest of feet

Closer it ventures so boldly 

And begins to loudly speak

Its chitter-chatter overpowers 

The sound of the pounding waves

It paces and impatiently awaits

A wanted response from me

I try my best to explain 

That I have nothing to offer

It quips loudly 

At my empty hand 

Then advances in a final 

Desperate demand

I utter my regrets repeatedly 

Until, sadly, it understands

It slowly retreats 

Then quietly

Takes to the sky once again

It dips and swoops

Flying blindly 

Teasing the relentless sea

In its final quest 

At days end 

To find a morsel

Before it sleeps

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