Birdhouse on the Bay

The ramshackle shed stands offshore
on stilts sunk knee-deep in waves.
Though fifty years of sun and storm
have teased its wood to splinters,
tilted the warped plank floor,
stripped off shingles,
osprey nests as big as washtubs
still sit soundly on the roof,
their twigs, branches jutting
toward stars twinkling in the dusk.

Against a sunset flecked with seagulls, swallows,
and leg-trailing herons weary for sleep,
two mallards circle the shed,
wingtips quivering.

Their quacks sound like voices
gurgled softly through water
as the pair alights upon a broken rail.
They waddle to and fro,
tuck heads beneath wings, fall silent,
feathers ruffling
in the warm July breeze.

Scott Speck
07/16/2003