Acidity in the wavelets
is why the loon’s eggshells are thinning.

Hearing a lament come in on the wind
off the lake, I wondered if it was from a shaman
who understands such things,

but no, it was the loon itself.  Call it Rachel,
weeping for her children.

This is a bird that will ferry its young all around
the coves and islands, upon
its back.  The yoke is easy, and the burden light.

I guess we wait till it’s our young, to care much.
On Rachel we shut our windows.

Russell Rowland writes from New Hampshire. His work appears in Except for Love: New England Poets Inspired by Donald Hall (Encircle Publications), and Covid Spring, Vol.2 (Hobblebush Books). His latest poetry book, Magnificat, is available from Encircle Publications.