walking out onto the long narrow shelf of shale,
behind him, a seagull, using all of its magnificent
manipulations of birddom, pausing in air—
behind them, through the black pooled depths near shore,
luminescent bodies roiling still, sinking yesterday
through the thin needle's eye of today with prehistoric hebetude;
hands in pockets, hands in pockets...
before him... before him, his forehead like the limestone shore—
everything! moving there against it, prehistoric, luminescent,
then, for a moment - paused, his kingdom;
above him, the high hood of sky holding back stars,
that will latter proffer upon him their sparkle.