See now the yellow finch of bullet sleek and
flitting over a steep place of rocks and scrub
where against steady white crashes so tightly cling
tufts of aqua sea grass washed velvet by rhythmic tides
in a place where blond ponies strut and breed
among dunes with crusted sap loblolly pines
bent by constant wind across the salty marsh
where the storm has cut an inlet to be sure.