A lone osprey circles in the near-winter sky
bides time with the resident gulls
and wonders at the familiar landscape
now gone foreign
The sudden slow change went unremarked,
the memo of departure mislaid,
and communal cues misread
For wont of thermals, aloft now on fortitude alone
it flies along the coast — searching maybe
or reeling in the easy, quiet solitude
a spin, swoop, spiral dance
Perhaps both, like me —
a jubilant embrace belies
the ache of cold, empty air.
Poem ©2022, Jen Payne
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