3
-4
-5
-6
-7
-8
-9
-10
-11
-12
|
16 Over me a plummeting shadow--water splashes. I sneak around bushes and find a pelican. A tail fin holds ajar the dusky bird's long mandibles. The rest of the heavy fish defines the bottom of the pelican's pouch, veined like a large leaf and translucent. With my field glasses I can discern the fish, which eventually falls apart as the buoyant bird floats like a schooner. Sunlight cuts bayou water around the dining bird into glittering diamonds. Until the pelican has gulped down every bit of the fish, I am spellbound. |
Return --
Previous --
Next
Issue #33, June, 2003 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.