The Sound of Plenty (Depends Where You Are Standing)

I would like to begin this post by letting folks know I finally saw my first member of the Family Alcidae back on 8 May. Members of this family have rapid, shallow wingbeats; wings particularly adept for underwater propulsion. When on land, they have an upright stance, are generally black-and-white, and thus are sometimes referred to as "penguins of the North." Yeah, I'd seen puffins in captivity (Fratercula spp.), but no Alcids in the wild; a good many members of the family occur off the northern portions of this continent's coast. A few do not. Like the species I had been eagerly anticipating in this location, Xantus' Murrelet.(Synthliboramphus hypoleucus) Click the scientific name for a link that illustrates.

Sound of Plenty (Depends Where You Are Standing)



As a little boy I used to watch and listen to such things with utter reverence.
The greatest, most incredible thing in the world to behold.

I am older now. While no longer a little boy I still think about him while taking this in.

Only the little boy doesn't look like me this time.
The little boy doesn't talk like me this time.

The little boy's "Saviour" he is supposed to grow up believing in doesn't look like mine was to in pictures and paintings and murals.

His house looks different.
Neighborhood different, w/a not-so-eerie sameness.

His name is different.

But, he is still silenced......by the same....sound.

The men and women who pilot such machines most certainly have an incredible responsibility they strap on their backs every morning they wake up.

They know this ofcourse. I am glad they are protectors; though wishing there were no need.

It's just that I hope their commanding officers
And their bosses' bosses read history books
And all got good grades in math.

I hope so,

For that little boy.

-mwyork, 1800hrs, 19-May-2008


Papilio rutulus

Peace, shalom, salaam,

-mwyork

Remembering Old Friends on a Tiny Atoll...

in a galaxy far, far away...

"It is a good thing memories last a lifetime, because moments are so short." - anonymous.

There are certain memories that become such a part of you that you carry them alongside the rest of this particular walk. Beings that had such a profound impact on your life that you can't let go of them, and shouldn't let go of them. Their influence on your life was so paramount that they are now part of you; an improved, evolved, and knowing you.

Some of these beings are at such a personal level that I will most certainly keep them within. Some are at such a personal level that I will most certainly keep them within; but, I feel like sharing them again with my old audience and revealing them to any new members.

Sundown With Brown Noddy

We both found our seat for the falling of our star.
Mine, new
His, same old
A front porch step shared
On our island in the middle of the blue---

What creatures have done for ages
Sun. Down.
My eyes grew wider
His, closing
I enjoying the fire palette of the evening horizon
He, getting sleepy.
We have met every day since my arrival.
Perhaps since his?
Now we may congregate each evening,
to down our Sun
There are very few moments in this world that matter.

This is one.

©M.W. York, 09.19.07

No Name

Albatross.

They surf the waves
if a human on a surfboard
rides the incredible swell
just touching the water
Albatross rides
just not touching
needing no board

The Ocean's elders
They were not made for the open ocean.
the open ocean was made for them.
how can it not be so?

one only need witness the glide
and only once

everything else out here is a bird
a respectful occupation
Albatross, though,
Albatross is at an even higher level

one only need witness the glide
and only once

a mediator?
to whom from whom
a messenger?
to whom from whom

It may be none, any, or all these things
may be more

It's basic..
It is a bearer
of one thesis

a reminder
a teacher

what ever It may be,
it is clear
it says with no words at all...

YOU ARE NOT ALONE
YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE

Stop acting like it

one only need witness the glide
and only once

call me what you will

Albatross.

-©M. W. York 10.28.07

Atoll at Night

I am writing by very poor candlelight.
I cannot make out my scribbles on the paper
Nevertheless…

A definitive calm comes over me at night, here in this place.

Out the window I hear what is meant to be heard.
Not mechanical, techno phony
It is life, It is death.
It is give, It is take.

Waves, pound away at the shore
Taking a little back
A newly hatched sea turtle was released.
Giving back.

The night sky is staggering, humbling
I will now, extinguish the only light.

This, not so good, candle.

-©M.W.York 09.05.07

wait until

I.

I am a Sooty Tern.
This spring and summer there were
Over sixty-thousand of us on the island.
It’s like that every year, the elders tell us.
So many adults flying like a tern should;
Fast, free, you should see us!
You should see us when we are able to fly!
I can’t wait when I grow up and can fly.
Fly like a Sooty Tern!

I, with all my adult and young tern friends
took up every space of this island.
They even named the island after us.
Tern Island.
For Sooty Terns, that’s what I am.
I can’t wait until I can fly!

When summer grew late, lots of my terns began to leave.
That’s okay. I’m told that’s when some of us
begin to leave.
Lots of the young have left the nest and can fly
so they begin to go out to sea.
Lots of young have left the nest like I have.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

Some young terns are later to hatch than others.
We are still attended by our adults.
They fly out and back, bringing us food.
Fish and squid.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

There are many of us Sooties around,
even into late summer.
I remember being so excited when my close friend learned to fly.
He urged me to come with him.
It wasn’t my time. I’m still on the ground.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

It’s October now.
All my friends are gone.
I told them I would meet them when I could.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

I hear an adult once in awhile.
What am I supposed to do?
Nobody hears me.
All my adults have been gone for awhile.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

I don’t hear many chirp-chirp-chirp’s
from young Sooties anymore.
I don’t chirp because I can’t anymore.
My adults, and my voice, have left me.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

I really came up looking good.
All my chick down is gone.
All my feathers have grown in,
even though juvenile colors and pattern.
I should be able to fly pretty soon.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

When I was just a downy chick
I was told of my good fortune.
Other creatures jealously thought
how lucky to have been born a bird.
Other birds spoke of our good luck.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

I can still only stand and walk.
Wobbly now, the former.
Barely, on some days, the latter.
I am so lonely.
So hungry.
I can’t wait until I can fly.

II.

Cruel.
Cruel to be born of this world, see its potential
and not be able to live it.
Even worse than cruel, to have been born a bird.
Not just a bird, a tern, a tern of the open ocean.
I can’t even move anymore.
Certainly not off this patch of dirt.
Cruel.

III.

Why then?
Why?!!!
Would have rather been born a moth.
A moth only lives a couple of weeks.
BUT he flies, and lives a full moth life on this earth.

I am so hungry I’ve forgotten.
So tired I’ve forgotten.
So lonely I’ve forgotten.
The only wonder I now have is if I’ll finish out the week, oh, and what happens next.
I hope it’s something. This time was too cruel and unfair.

IV.

Why am I here!!?
Could it be for the one who
is currently writing about me?

V.
I can’t wait…
until…
I …
can…
fly



-©M. W. York, 10.07.07

Chance

I lay here, listening to the ocean that surrounds me.

Earlier, I stood there looking at the ocean that surrounds me.

Wondering.

Wondering, this time, how in the hell that hatchling sea turtle will make it.
Smaller than my palm.

It is his world we released him to, after all.
His chance was zero had we not met.
Now his chance is zero, if one were to round down.
Miniscule.
A chance, though, was given.

It was also eagerly taken.

I was happy.

Life is chance.

Maybe.

-©M.W.York 09.05.07

____________________

Well.

A portion of my writing while I was on that 37 acre atoll in the remote of the remote.

Good morning.

peace,

mwyork