Return of the Whales

Whales arch back to the Derwent,
loll near the lighthouse
where we boiled
their ancestors.

In my eucalypt cathedral
I raise binoculars.
Crows swirl by;
pincer beaks

grind out the sound of chains
upon gravel. Hulks risen
from the arrow years,
cow and calf

roll boldly
in a fleet
of white
flags.