Under The Fog

The Bottle Beach mudflat doesn't rest
easy, he reaches out under the fog,
under a flock of probing and picking
sandpipers. The mudflat grabs the tide,

pulls it up under his chin
and goes to sleep. The tide
slides back off the end
of the bed, the mudflat turns over,

scratches sand fleas, makes room
for the pickers. A flock of pickers
swirls and splits, a peregrine flies through,
flies hard with takeout in his talons

and lands on a channel marker,
and the pickers go back to probing.
Bottle Beach sighs, and reaches out
under the fog.