OSPREYS
remind me of you,
your capacity to carry awkward burdens
long distances for those you love;
your fierce demeanour, clear eyes;
your incongruous warble.
Sitting as far south as I can, I touch
my thumbtips together, spread my fingers
wide as wings, raise them above the horizon,
try to understand flight.
I still don’t.
I cannot upheave into air
trusting a lightness of being
and a wild devotion to lift me.
I am water, or ice. I fight against
my skin, my private ebbs and flows.
You fly by with a struggling lionfish.
The sea pulls at my feet.
The ocean is as full as the moon.