Joe Massingham

Terns

Terns climb and wheel incessantly

mewing a lament for lost chicks,

painting patterns on the cliff face

that artistic periwinkles

can study from their seashore studios

and copy in the sculptured shelters

in which they enclose themselves.

Each night the wind wields

nature’s scouring pad

and scrubs the cliff face clean

so that in the morning the terns

must undertake their task again.