One Single Impression: Vital

High tide throws itself down
Like a gauntlet.
The shore pretends
It does not feel the blow.

So do the birds

And most especially the pelicans
As they glide
Parallel and equidistant
Along the back
Of the cresting water.

For them it is not an effort
But a deep breath and that reflex
We call the beat of the heart.

In time with the sea,
Pelicans know
The discord at the edge
Of what is important
Is not.

This is vital.

One Single Impression