The Black Oystercatcher

Before today, they were invisible
and as black as your ink.
while you drew them
I looked in silence
at those birds up there on Pewetole island.

they dove in search of chitons,
in search of food from hard shells,
limpits, mussles and molusks,
they dove down from the island's
sitka spruce,
and made black ink.
you used it
to draw me, up there.