2 Commotion Under a low fogbank, the blackish tone Of its belly darkening the waves and sand And cliffs that block all view of the high land Where the town sits in sunlight, I’m alone, The beach is bare, the hard brown sand slopes down Steeply to the low tide. From where I stand No jogger rounds the point to scare the band Of godwits from their meal. I’ll start my run Together with the dark sea running in From a horizon turning steely bright (Sun finishing its run where the fog’s thin) While jaegers and gulls keep up a running fight Whirling sharp black against that piece of sky The beach and cliffs run toward and likewise I. 7