Shearwater's Release

Shearwater’s Release

I know why they call you shearwater,
for over the heaving surge
you flurry’s an inch from the broiling
defying the ocean’s rage.
Shearwater, bill like razors,
shaving a fish from the sea:
one hand to leave you entangled,
another to set you free.

I know why they call you shearwater,
when waves rise clifflike and sheer,
when kelps are torn from their holdfasts
and spume-winds buffet the shore.
Shearwater, wearing a sinker
strung to the hook in your bill,
my hands are a-tremble to hold you,
in awe of the strength of your will.

I know why they call you shearwater,
skimming the sea-fleece, the foam,
scissor-winged slicer of tempests,
wind-whittled, perfect in form.
Shearwater, fly with your sisters
the salmonholed sea in a rush,
a yard from the stone that could smash you,
and show this fool man how to fish.


Poem by Giles Watson, 2015.