Snowy Petrels

Spirit birds

ghostly around icebergs

spinning shards of compacted snow

paperpale over ink dark waters.


With nasal sonars pinging

Snowy petrels make an iceberg almost cosy.

Mirrors of departed light

hunt by smell

the long season

of the southern night.


White against white becomes invisible

perched on snow Snowys are not seen.

Now we spot them

now we don't,

spirit birds, snow shards,

flying ice.


(An iceberg is not a home -

undebagged penguins

are resting here

fleeing the adroit hunters of       the deep

hauling out their blubber

below frozen cliffs.)