Albatross

Swimming, my vision often creased by streaks
Of light that perforate white clouds,
Temporarily blinding me, idly
Paddling below the birds’ murmurations as they
Whirl peevishly above the beach crowds.
But these are not starlings,
These white sand bandits,
Who have strutted and fretted on electrical lines,
Dancing like shadows along boardwalk splines,
Until they come, ultimately, to rest.
One is larger, with dappled breast,
Noticeably different, yet indifferent
He spies me, warily, and waddles rather than flies,
Looking me directly in my unseeing eyes,
Temporarily replacing my vision with his
Until I am no longer lost,
Led to shore by this albatross.