Grey Whale Migration

I stepped down from clouds
to stare off a cliff
over a bay full of whales,
over the tide of their breath.

They heave over waves,
take in salt air,
and vanish
as fins glance off sunlight.

On the perch below,
a rock seems to move
and the falcon’s eye catches mine.
One black stone eye
before she falls
into the sky above the sea.

From high on the cliff
over grey swells,
I watch them all,
both feet moored to the rocks,
the falcon’s hook in my skin.

-Alex Leavens

Alex Leavens has worked as a naturalist for the Portland Audubon Society, backcountry ranger and firefighter in the Olympic National Park, and primitive survival instructor in Southern Utah. His poetry has appeared in Cirque, Windfall, Perceptions Magazine, Clover, Cathexis NW, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Frogpond, and Modern Haiku.