The swell today is sweet, bringing lines
past the point and into the cove.
Cars driven by surfers nearly crash
on the 101 as they slow. Around the bend,
unseeable from the road, is the rookery.
A baby sea lion barks near shore, tossed
to the rocks, lost or sick or too weak to jet
past the breakers. My son runs near
the edge of the bluff. Strangers look at me
when in a stern, too-loud voice, I say No!
Screw you. That’s my son and that’s my job.
I don’t say it out loud. It’s a beautiful day.