Sky sings and dives into ocean, glacial molten, then lands on the shore and covers us in wisdom. Supine and unified–we–our chests rising and falling to the score of sandpipers trilling toward and away from exactly what they need. Until they still, soundless ancient eighth notes dotting the sand curve of a wave’s last, languid sigh. Sea foam and tidal lines and nautili–we–spirals of abandoned armor. Clavicles, holy water. Shells faces, creased as secrets with nothing to hide. Revelations in a girl’s hand–we–urgent offerings burnished by the deep and etched by gull cries.
Wrens on a Wire by Amanda Varrella 