Dowsing
These two bare twigs,
formerly bayberry,
too scant to be driftwood
but nicely branched and silvered,
they fit my hand so well
I carry them
full circuit
around the island
with no vain intention
of taking either home with me–
but I like the feeling
of winnowing the sea breeze,
of holding hands with the sky,
of sensing how a lobster feels
waving its claws in communication
with Poseidon and the sea.