The Eagle

Scanning the escarpment for signs of the eagle,
my hands clasp the tangled shreds of seaweed
and feel the breaking edges of the shells,
that have lain discarded in careless curves
along the seashore.

The eagle swoops to devour a tasty morsel
he spies amongst the receding rollers,
and keenly eyes me in the hope of more.
His claws catching the edge of green crystal,
he quickly retreats.

Sitting high now above the detritus
we both survey these items gifted us
by the lonely sea, who has lost interest
but promises us an imminent return
of fleeting embrace.