This poem is taken from PN Review 57, Volume 14 Number 1, September - October 1987.
Harbinger
The bird with its broad wings curving down
Was planing barely over the combers' crests,
Its strong beak forging forwards.
Surely it was an albatross
Steering out of the west,
Making the crossing from Galapagos,
Then sheering down the coast
When its unblinking weather-eye
...
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