www.loon.org

Through the veil of an ashy mist,
White stripe necklaces around
black necks-Riveting round eyes.
(Those eyes didn't miss much.)
They lay low in the water now,
swimming gently around the cove.

I sit rock still in my canoe,
hands under me for warmth.
they are used to my presence,
as long as I keep my distance
and respect their space.

When the world is eerily quiet,
when the fog muffles all other noise,
The song shimmers as it rises.

A primitive breathtaking tremolo,
released with the shiver of a jaw;
so beautiful, so mysterious, so
wild that it raises the hair on the
back of my neck.