by Edward Jarvis
They have cordoned off this
cove a mile west of the pupping
grounds. No other in recorded
history has come here to give birth.
The harbor seal and her
newborn stir with the swelling
dawn-light, the tiny mizzle
seeking a teat as they lie a
linear fathom from the waterline.
A gathering of humans witnessing
on the low cliff above the popular
community beach surrender
the long claimed territory for what,
in situ, has been reclaimed for
these few days, the suck and slurp
of first communion a duet
with the swish of tide on sacred sand.
