
a crow alights
on a slender, bare branch,
riding the bounce.

a crow alights
on a slender, bare branch,
riding the bounce.

water lilies stand
confidently, while herons
step warily.

the cormorant,
glistening & dripping,
must air dry
before it’s a bird again;
humans cramp in the pool.

one hundred birds
startle at my presence;
one eyeballs me.

curb crows
stand in a row.
what’s the sky say?

from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.

I don’t mind one crow,
on a rail or curb,
by its lonesome.
Nor am I troubled by
a large number of the birds.
(The group designation “murder,”
notwithstanding.)
But where two or three
are gathered, facing
each other…
That’s when I get the
heebie-jeebies.

an egret peers
into the lake, past
surface reflections?

swamphens strut
at water’s edge, and
i’m a farmboy again.