Early one morning the bay will be full of pelicans. (I have never seen pelicans except through his eyes.) Over on the sandbar beneath the pearly hills Dozens of great white pelicans will settle and rise With long wings powerfully pushing the air aside, Slashing and cutting the sunlight, circling wide. . . . Early one morning he will look out over the water. (O, hello, there are the pelicans. More than last year.) Over on the sandbar below the pearly hills He will find big birds moving, flapping wings -- here A long beak dipping into the water. He Will bring his binoculars out the better to see. Early one morning he will wake up to the pelicans (On a cold bright morning after the ice is out) On the sandbar and the rocks beneath the pearly hills Stretching their necks and wings and milling about. He will wake up to the pelicans resting from flight. After the long dark winter. After the night. |