A Little Grey Bird.

I will press on

It's late and the tide is dropping

Leaving smooth wet sand

Bruised purple by the sky


Up from the flats tracking the creek

Pool to pool

Basalt islands in rapids

Water giggling excitedly

On its trip to the beach


Embracing trees cry like birds

As the valley walls rise hard

Volcanics  tectonics  hydraulics

The water below hissing


A little grey bird calls and flutters

In the vast space of the valley

Small hope note dancing

Above rapid and fall


There at the head of the valley

And the foot of the falls

Twilight mixes with the mist

Fluttering birds and shivering ferns.