Baywatch

for a midlife birthday celebrated at Saint Michael's, Maryland

Not Saint Michael's way. Not the heron's thrust
Of archangelic fortitude, not the raptor's pose
Of wound-up intention needing only targets.
My way, like the background bay itself, must trust
Its indirection. Like the inner sea, it knows
That lifesprings mix both fresh and salt, mark its
Shifting insights in the states of sand,
Mix the ceaseless tidal edit and re-edit
Into memory and hope. Here I mark
A birthday, recognize a midlife stand
Upon this Eastern Shore, allowing equal credit
To the sun and the sawing motion of the shark.
Before the winged certitude of angels or of birds,
We celebrate our currents curling toward their words.