Sea Watch

You crouch on your haunches

watching for shearwaters.

Everything about you, finely balanced,

elbows rest on thighs to steady binoculars

cupped in brown hands.

A pulse laps

at the curve of your neck.


A shearwater glances across the spit of sea

like a hand over receptive skin,

breathing in anticipation

of a wing tip.

Surface of water

pushing up to kiss

the underbelly

of the bird,


rising, falling.

Your silent gaze – focused,

like this morning

you watched me,

arching to your touch.

Magnificent and intimate,

we are held in the thrall

of this vast natural world,

and I am in the hands

of an expert.