i come home early
from work

find forty cormorants
gathered on the rocks
at half tide

it’s cold
and close
to winter solstice

the midday sun
lacks energy

the ocean
slaps
at the sand

i want to think
it’s trying
for my attention

you rest in
silent groups

breasts
to the wind

long necks
curled under
like question marks

till one of you
slips in

i love the way
you ride low
in the tide

the way

you could claim
either domain

but you’re always
settling

at the margin
between them

you finish
your fishing

you beat
the water

out of your
wings

you labour
into the sky

a not quite broken
stick

a nearly straightened
arrow

you are the questions
i don’t yet recognise

you are the tactics
and the strategy

i stretch out
my arms

to catch the last
of this year’s
wind

Michaela Keeble

 

Michaela Keeble is an Australian writer living in Aotearoa with her partner and three kids. She mainly writes press releases about climate change, but her poetry and fiction is also published online and in print, including in Southerly, Plumwood Mountain, Cicerone, Mimicry, Capital, Turbine and CommunityLore.

© 2019