As If You Belong

You come on the nest in the fog.
An Osprey, the brochure tells you, and it may well be.
Close to the shore and held high.

You can hear it’s birdcall
But you do not have the history to know
one bird from another.

All you know is that they fly away from you
every time you get too close.
This one however feels safe in its high perch,

safe enough to tease you and taunt you,
almost seen. And so you sit. and listen
in the fog. There is no hurry.

The older you get the more patient you become
with the comings and goings,
of ghosts and almost ghosts.

You know that, every now and then,
nature is curious enough to show itself
and if you are still enough,

treat you as if you belong.

About this poem

About nature, in particular, the osprey that lives in that nest on Cape Cod. About life and how people and love come and go out of it. About belonging, or not. Poetry is never about one thing.

Most of my poems come quickly. Now and again, they take some serious editing, but for the most part, they just flow, as if they belong to someone else and I am merely taking dictation. This one has been hard to pull out. It has been months in the simmering. And then this morning, “Poof”! There is a certain amount of magic in art and poetry.

Tom