Monday, September 14, 2009

Poem by Belfast Poet Laureate and Committee Member Linda Buckmaster

Webcam Osprey


“Osprey has laid an egg!”

Electronic marquee outside a restaurant


Is there no dignity left? Bad enough they

have watched me all winter: hunkering down

in the cold and wind, surveying my flat stretch

of tidewater where I know the rhythms of each run, building

the nest for our family. (How lucky the camera can’t follow the flight

of love, the moment we seal our future.) And now, just

in time for tourist season, my body unwittingly becomes

a performer while they sit at the bar

or table, even those without a water view, waiting

for their lobster, the staff laconic in the slow

early spring season and all watching

my sacred offering, an event

they can talk about

on their cell phones or perhaps even

send a picture of the picture on the screen

above the decorator fishing net.

And when the little one finally breaks

through to this world, a moment that should be

ours, only ours, how will I explain the world

he is breaking into? How can I tell him -- free-born spirit expecting

his birthright -- that he is already captured?



(Previously published in Off the Coast.)

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