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It clings to the cliffed shore,
to the wintered face of the thistle path,
to the fingers of the old man's glove
as he waves his memory homeward

In that breath between come and go
she moves up from the bay;
gold turns her stride,
the line of her dress,
the soft sea pulling at her feet

When he reaches out
and the frail birds fly
and the sun and the sky
have married deep into the sea, it clings

Even as his shadow threads retreat,
it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


You have really painted a scene with words. I recently saw a great documentary about the eagle culture in Mongolia which amazed me, but your poem could is all, falcon or hawks etc. These birds are mesmerizing.

I don't understand the title. Also am confused as to why the birds are "frail"..I think you meant bird not birds,,, So I assume the man is reaching out, letting the bird loose into the horizon. Lastly I am more happy with something like "dissolves into the mist" as as opposed to "dissolves TO mist" which i just can't find the physical connection to.

Hope you don't mind these comments, I give them with respect. As James Taylor would sing "that's why I'm here.."


I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

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