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