On a dune I am a thing
fishing in organized religion,
looking for an encounter akin
to how the sky & the end of the ocean meet.

I watch a frigate gliding in air
fastened to current.
She won’t touch land for months
if she wishes, Fregata minor—
a shift in trade winds.

/

H.W. Day is an Alabama native. His poetry has appeared in Tipton Poetry Journal and Right Hand Pointing, with forthcoming work in Quail Bell. He resides in Birmingham, AL. For more, visit:  hw-day.com.