The Heartbeat of Cape Henlopen Park
It’s elemental, dear Señor Neruda,
like your ode to glories
of bird watching; “sailors of the air,”
or, if near here, por ejemplo
horseshoe crab-eggs
at spawning time,
God’s manna for valiant red knots
flying nonstop from the southern tip
of Patagonia in your Tierra del Fuego
enroute to a frigid Arctic
surviving and doubling their weight
at paradise here on earth…
Ruddy turnstones nibbling now
at ocean’s edge; the pulse and throb
of The Great Dune Overlook
where we bring visitors
from a land-locked midwest
with a diminishing August
daylight mist off the Atlantic
knowing we are all stage-struck
passers-by on specks of land
windblown here whether
we do or do not witness this Dune
sand hill built by the aeolian process…
Our treasured land safe
from a decaying half-life of time
and tempests, nurturing now
exotic plants and animals
where once lonely sentries
in Ghost Towers kept watch
by day & unearthly nights,
targeting by triangulation
German submarines prowling
our shores; programmed
by madmen with desperate dreams
until their surrender here
restored natural harmonies:
say now with reverence…
piping plovers, shifting sands,
wind, water, air, sanderlings
majestic now from our
mini-Mt. Olympus-like view
and utopian spur of land.