Cold wind wafts on a falling tide,

mounds of white foam shiver on

the shore of White’s point,

an oasis of stillness.

Out on a sand spit Plovers, Puffins,

Ospreys and Gulls meet, a lone Blue Heron,

sergeant of arms stands guard on one foot

against gossipy Cormorants.

A nosy Snipe from a neighboring marsh

skitters back and forth wondering

what’s the fuss.

Curious, I crawl on my belly

zig-zagging in stealth on the sand.

Huddled in committees tweeting

and chirping in secretive chatter

a chorus of yea and nays can be

heard on a plebecite vote to the first

item on the agenda: What can be done

about ATVs ruining the dunes?

Heron complains he can no longer

leave his football-size egg in the grass

and must now build a nest high in a tree.

A legal mind among them notes motorized

trespass is breaking the law, but others point

out Mounties are forty miles to the north.

An ACLU Puffin pipes up explaining

the public is allowed to make use of the shore,

they just need permission to cross over land.

Locals are used to digging a feed at low tide

and would resent any signs posted to stop them,

as one cottage owner once found out

trying to bar them from riding over her land.

Her furniture was used to warm up some cold

ice-fishing gents.

The meeting abruptly adjourns when I have to

stand up and pee, scattering all in a fright

except for one gull who hovers above, beady eyes

focused on what he thinks is a tasty morsel

flapping in the wind.