A southern right was born here yesterday,
breaching for her first time
just behind the breaking waves.
This wayward of deep song,
brought forth by a dream
handed down from mother to daughter
as they divine the depths
and draw breath from between
two blues: a departure point
to which she will return,
reminded by means behind memory
of this wide, wild bay
called home.
Remember your own day,
dancing with your beloved,
letting her brave the blue current
without telling her what to do,
just trusting her heart to know,
as it always has,
in ways which will not be understood.
We have walked the edge
of fractal fountains, falling
into rainbows and robberies
and the everyday rhythms of life:
all of it one
drawn-out ritual of rebirth.
A fish eagle and a comorant
came to pay their respects
to this newborn carrier of the old chorus
and, while it doesn't quite match
the old story about a condor,
we are a people after prophecy:
imprinted with the promise of return,
forced to choose our path.