Friday, October 15, 2004


Roosted in a wetland perch
More often occupied by the heron
Chestnut shoulders hunched forward, wings untucked
She spread the feather tips to warm in the morning sun
Each primary visible, a distinct sheaf of darkened chevrons
Extended outward, as if to parade her rank,
So I counted the stripes, sergeant class flyer,
Many thousands of rodent missions under her belt.

I thought of you and your camera today,
Wishing I could capture that detail on film, save it because
Once startled, she grabbed the sky with those ready wings,
A stripe of rust her parting wake
And my words, the only memory of that sight.

Better yet, go hear elck read it aloud.

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