| Oceanside VIII (Jellyfish) |
| In the midst of the surf’s roar |
| in patient retreat |
| from the rippled, wavewashed |
| sand of a beach |
| the still, clear blob of a jellyfish |
| lies alone in the sand |
| surrounded by |
| abandoned puddles of sea. |
| © Jon Bohrn (1998) |
| Oceanside IX (To a dead loon) |
| I’m sorry to see, Mr. Loon |
| that you are here all alone, |
| sprawled on your side in the surf, |
| waves flowing endless |
| through mottled drenched feathers, |
| your legs parchment twigs, |
| your eyes unseeing, |
| your half-open beak |
| now buried in surf and the sand. |
| If you were alive |
| you’d think it undignified |
| to have someone like me |
| approach you so close |
| and gawk at what’s left |
| of your once-birdlike splendor. |
| I promise, |
| I shall remember you |
| in your better days. |
| © Jon Bohrn (1998) |
