Albert is telling his story about the osprey
that, when two other ospreys dismantled his nest,
removing it stick by stick to a mangrove tree,
stayed atop the platform for the rest
of the mating season, going through the motions
of feeding a family, every day catching
a flounder or a skate and patiently thrashing
it back and forth, an elaborate production

for him and Nan to watch. Now Nan is gone.
But every morning they still take their walks
out past their garden plot, their mangrove swamp,
their orchid house, their egrets and their wood storks,
until the sun’s too high and they must home.
And Albert’s osprey guards his post, alone.