HANDWRITING ON THE WALL

Raven is having a down day. So am I, for that matter; I didn't even get up to make our cups of earl grey until almost 11. Raven just picked at his mushroom and serrano chile omelet, and took his sweet roll out to the garden.

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Raven hears the roar
as the great incoming waves
gobble up the beach,
and he sees the sand shrinking.
Even as he watches it,

the ocean expands
its territory; inch by
inch it spreads across
the land with no intention
of receding. Now he knows

how the mammoth must
have felt when he saw the ice
approaching closer--
until it covered him up
like a fly trapped in amber.

Raven, though a bird,
has always lived on the land;
as pedestrian
as they come, he sees the sea
as an enemy taking

away his back yard,
sweeping him into the street
to scrap with the gulls
for his livelihood. Raven,
scavenging for ideas

on the beach, feels waves
erasing his best sources
and leaving tide pools
in their place. He knows that he
is becoming obsolete.