Cormorants.

 

All afternoon the sea was a muddle of birds

Black and spiky,

Long necked, slippery,

Down they went

Into the waters for the poor,

Blunt headed silver,

They live on for a little while.

God,

How did it ever come to you

to invent time?

I dreamed at night of the birds,

Of the beautiful dark seas,

They push trough.

 

(Mary Oliver)