Steep Ravine
Between sagebrush and the lichened rocks,
a covey of quail employ themselves.
Light disperses in the spray, and a seal
ducks under again. Home for them.
Swell and curl, the untrained wave
trains under lunar pull. Few things
outreach the power of touch.
Left out,
supreme in its trouble and possessiveness,
a human observes its shadow
lengthening across the surf. In this commotion, does it
too have a natural place — and the tide
pushes then drags a lumpy shampoo
over a collection of broken teeth.
