And just like that, the birds come out of the mist.
It’s easy to tell who spent the night in the water,
the pelicans for one, floating by—too early for any one otter.
They’re not waiting to feed until they see the sun,
for them, the only getting that’s good
is the getting that’s done.
And to do any fishing, they just drift calmly by.
Falling tide, rising tide, it doesn’t seem to matter,
to them, any tide will provide.
From A River Poem