by Marshall Jamison

“Write something about ospreys and eagles,”
My Maine Sister-in-Law says to me.
Never before has she shown that much interest in my poetry
and it gave me pause because she’s extremely
pretty – has a brain to match her looks – so I considered her words carefully.

Then thought back to my boyhood days,
In Summer when I prowled the rocky shore,
Fished for flounders in the bay, dreamed of
Outer islands I’d discover and explore,
So when a lobsterman I knew said he was
setting traps out there,
At four in the morning I got up to go
With him any and everywhere.

Out there on the isles we found the ospreys, nests high
in stunted island pines, buffeted by
Sea winds, apart,
Secure in attitude.

We watched them from afar, understanding
They weren’t being rude
But that they’d learned from their friends,
The Eagles,
The joy, the peace in quiet solitude.

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