Counting Piping Plovers
Twelve so far have come to nest. Tiny
feathered souls in pairs who find no
no rest when warmer weather fares.
Castles smaller than my hand, humble
hollows in the sand hold their downy
young in perfect camouflage.
Winds blow less bold. We wait and
pray man and tide will turn away from
this delicate collage.
By Joan Newton, South Berwick
Wordsmiths and photographers, send us your goods! MWM is soliciting local poets and picture-takers for inclusion in Verse and View, our new reader-submitted, word-and-image series. Send your entries to firstname.lastname@example.org.