Thomas Halloran – Ⅴ
Little Blue in Steele Creek
When it sees me, it steps around
an aimlessly paddling mallard
in its way, then vaults
ten more yards upstream.
The bird waits,
hair-trigger neck cocked.
It gets harder to see
as air falls heron-blue
and then by dark,
fish-full or giving up,
it suddenly cranks its lank wings high,
one at a time as if
for the first time ever in history,
then abruptly
all the several motions change
to its sturdy, flawless lift home.
When it sees me, it steps around
an aimlessly paddling mallard
in its way, then vaults
ten more yards upstream.
The bird waits,
hair-trigger neck cocked.
It gets harder to see
as air falls heron-blue
and then by dark,
fish-full or giving up,
it suddenly cranks its lank wings high,
one at a time as if
for the first time ever in history,
then abruptly
all the several motions change
to its sturdy, flawless lift home.