Mountain pebble gripped in her beak,
Jingwei flies over forest and field
mile after mile after mile, she flies
over rice farmers, over foresters
over river fishermen who spot her shadow
flying below them across a shadow sky
over mouse and rat, hare and shrew,
their thousand small and busy lives
mile after mile after mile, she flies
from the mountains to the Eastern Sea
mile on mile on mile to the shore’s rush
where she drops the pebble into the sea
and the sea sighs, Jingwei, Jingwei,
you’ll never fill me up with pebbles
and Jingwei fluffs her feathers and says,
pebble by pebble, I’ll fetch a mountain—
I’ll fetch a mountain to fill you up
so no little girl will ever drown in you
and the sea sighs, Jingwei, Jingwei,
children die, I’m larger than mountains
Jingwei turns on the wind, flies away,
back to the mountain to fetch a pebble
and the sea sighs but Jingwei has left
so the waves whisper to themselves
we held her, we held her, we held her
for a breath, then gifted her to the sky
and the sea shifts restless over sand
searching clouds for Jingwei’s return.
© 2022 Mary Soon Lee