R. Mark Vincent
A gentle breeze blows across the pier at the Port of Richmond. High above the bustle of container cars and cranes, I watch a large osprey return from her recent fly-over of foggy San Francisco Bay, talons filled with fresh fish. She lands in the ever-growing nest built near the top of an abandoned crane, and immediately sets about feeding her two fledglings. It won’t be long now before she’ll teach them to fish, but for now, she rips bits of flesh and feeds her chicks, seemingly unaware of the hustle and bustle beneath her. Her mate, perched on the rusted arm of the crane, stands watch.
set for one