His yellow eyes search the sea crashing far below
For nature has been unkind to him this hollow day
His search has caused sweet time to waste away.
Still, nature keeps him bound to wind’s cold hand
In silence sits he where few could see from land
Same wind that blows up cliff’s disgruntled face
Blows scent of salt in sea and wetted sand to taste.
Within the yellow eyes the miles in scene miss few
Splash of waves, the sails of white, a mountain mule
Clouds that gather, block the sun, by eve not done,
And yet for home he shall await with food for young.
Sun breaks line in sky above the lifting swell falls free
Brown is cliff, white is foam, yellow crossing sea
Talons flash to grasp the stream of silver in the brine
Nature deals death once, in time, the other, to define
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