Endings.

 

 

Endings.

 

Time's reach stood still that morning
for me.

With the ocean's return to its normal,
and tide climbing steep banks
I saw it.

White body on dusting of feathered
debris above
the line where water receded.

Lifeless beauty washed ashore.

After night's storm had tossed itself
quiet, there
between sky, sea and sand
one moment of
sad surprise unrolled mortality.

I know swans have to die and gulls
must eat.
One black-back had noted and was
circling above.

Bunched clouds suddenly let free
the sun
and its gleaming pale eye seemed
to cast then
an extraordinary light of gentle
tenderness over
the scene, invoking acceptance.

No formal mourning broached by
creation for
any beginnings and endings.

Just nature's calm requiem for the
life and death
journey of a beautiful creature.

There lies, in deepest affinity with
such submission,
wisdom's on-going tribute
to a silent finalé.

And time stood stiller that morning
for me.