Dressed for Rain
I rust upon the rock
like an old bent nail
watching her changing face
of eddy line and standing wave,
the swirls where tide meets bay
birds touch and go forever feeding.
Seals appear as if by magic
and golden eagle brown and tan
with spreading wing takes roost
while two bald eagles arc to south
their white heads flashing.
Caterpillars eat our apple trees,
the wind holds steady in the south
and I poke along the ground
like a curious plover
crabbing together this dispatch
between breaks of cloud
where sun will open on the sea
and I stay dressed for rain.