By Rob Burnside
Ten feet over the wave tops they come
Dark squadrons of two, or three, or more.
A full day fishing off Cape Poge done.
Gathering close on a pond island shore.
No soaring, no wheeling, no arc in their flight.
Due west to the brass of a low-hanging sun.
Long-necked old neighbors assemble for night.
Shadows and feathers now blending to one.
Rob Burnside, a yearly visitor to Edgartown, is a retired firefighter and published poet (his chapbook “Falling Off the Bone” is currently available at Amazon) from Swoyersville, Pa.