Low Along the Water's Edge

I saw three Oyster Catchers
And they saw me,
Handsome with their bright orange bills

They worked the wrack

Quick afoot
Then scampered down the sandy beach
Took flight
Low along the water’s edge
As if to say
I’d rather not sir
So we will be on our secret way.

I stopped to marvel
And labored for a moment
To think the things
I think I know
One of which is to ponder
From the bird’s point of view
What they may have made of me.

Thinking simply of them
And more highly of myself
I stopped to wonder
What it means to be an Oyster Catcher
What it is to live along the shore
To fly
To nest
To see this day
In their own unique way?

Do they have a day?
Meted -out in their minds?
A remembered yesterday
A hopeful tomorrow?

I saw three Oyster Catchers
And they saw me,
Handsome with their bright orange bills
Teachers on this bright spring day
Teaching in their secret way
What we do not know.