I first noticed them
as I walked along the rocky bay beach.
A glimmer of movement in the distance.
As I turned to follow
the narrow spit of land,
I saw another dark blur into the grove.
There, a pole in the center,
like a dead stripped elm,
held a platform just below the tree line.
The twigs jutted out so carefully,
almost by design.
A beak popped up and another osprey flew in.
Both disappeared.
l left.

The next day I brought my camera.
Weather overcast, the osprey
were nowhere to be seen.

It took another day,
and I captured one in flight.
I zoomed in and shot, and shot again.

Later, I notice other platforms above busy roads,
at intersections where noisy trucks
and electric cars stop and go.
The osprey seem undisturbed.
At one stop sign, I saw a head look around
perhaps for its mate, perhaps readying to leap.

One picture I put on my wall.
Bright blue sky, an osprey at full wingspan,
each feather woven for climbing currents.
captured yet free,
there and still back at the bay.