I am incapable
Of leaving the Cape
Held here
By the flight of
Tiny birds
Skimming
Across the inlet,
Soaring in an unfathomably complex unison,
The speed of their reaction,
The focus of their movements,
The joy they manifest,
Their intentions,
Their desires,
The mystery,
Of the Cape
Revealed,
Though not understood,
In their flight,
The simple,
Benign,
Everyday,
Extraordinary,
Quiet beauty.
The beatitudes.
Of god.
I just don’t get it,
I say.
And then I do.