We drove over the dam by the nearby lake,
heading for an appointment, not hurrying, but
not dawdling either.
It was a ride with a great view.
The sun laid its diamonds on the lake;
one boat rocked along, a fisherman hoping
Of a sudden, into the distant view,
a line of birds came cartwheeling, gliding,
We saw flashes of black streaks on the white wings
as the birds moved like waves at football games.
We watched the creatures glide closer
to the water, then,
saw each separate and
streak into the water.
What are they, what glides in formations so sharp
that no one is out of rank?
What becomes only one so quickly,
drawn by the sharp eyeing of
a silvery flip?
The pelican, right here,
today, as a gift to us.
They’re down from the north, on the way south,
dipping and again weaving their feathery souls
into my heart,
calling back the beaches of my past,
when I first met these wonder birds.
My gift today.