{"id":259,"date":"2010-07-27T04:15:00","date_gmt":"2010-07-27T04:15:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/?p=259"},"modified":"2014-10-01T03:06:37","modified_gmt":"2014-10-01T03:06:37","slug":"tern-tern-tern","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/?p=259","title":{"rendered":"Tern, tern, tern"},"content":{"rendered":"
The birds shrug off<\/div>\n
the slant air,<\/div>\n
they plunge into the sea<\/div>\n
and vanish<\/div>\n
under the glassy edges<\/div>\n
of the water,<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

and then come back,<\/div>\n
as white as snow,<\/div>\n
shaking themselves,<\/div>\n
shaking the little silver fish,<\/div>\n
crying out<\/div>\n
in their own language,<\/div>\n
voices like rough bells–<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

it’s wonderful<\/div>\n
and it happens whenever<\/div>\n
the tide starts its gushing<\/div>\n
journey back, every morning<\/div>\n
or afternoon.<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>This is a poem
about death,
about the heart blanching
in its folds of shadows
because it knows
someday it will be
the fish and the wave
and no longer itself–
it will be those white wings,
flying in and out
of the darkness
but not knowing it–
this is a poem about loving
the world and everything in it:
the self, the perpetual muscle,
the passage in and out, the bristling
swing of the sea.<\/p>\n

–The Terns by Mary Oliver from House of Light, 1990<\/p>\n

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –<\/p>\n

All Commons, I guess. The Leasts are just too quick to photograph in the air. They’re still feeding babies on my favorite sandbar at Horseshoe Cove on Sandy Hook, but today there were far fewer loafing around. Maybe it’s just that the tide was higher this time.<\/p>\n

I’m collecting tern poems if anyone has any to share…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The birds shrug off the slant air, they plunge into the sea and vanish under the glassy edges of the water, and then come back, as white as snow, shaking themselves, shaking the little silver fish, crying out in their own language, voices like rough bells– it’s wonderful and it happens whenever the tide starts … Continue reading Tern, tern, tern<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2203,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[7,27,2],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/259"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=259"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/259\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2203"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=259"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=259"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.somewhereinnj.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=259"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}