footprint and a single egg to keep warm.
Your elemental profession.
Not even a condo of nested luxury in green
for the colony. Not even a stoic posture
or grim resolution, or a religion.
Your hymns are the fish of water against rock
in orchestrated waves.
Saint of the environment you soften
the hard grey landscape with your flesh
and blood against the odds of oil spills
sea lions and killer whales.
(The Antigonish Review, Volume 39 No. 154, Summer 2008)