SORA

The sora made such a fool of itself

Flapping up from the cattails and

Staggering in front of me, like a drunk,

Across the boardwalk.



In an instant, it sliced through tall reeds,

vanishing in the swallow of the marsh,

a wake of bright green confetti

closing up behind it.  



First amused, then caught in the curiosity

like an adolescent boy- wanting just to look -

I yearn, yet feel only the alienation.



In the mystery of this ancient exchange,

to hear the pitch of unfamiliar calls,

smell air’s perfume, touch earth’s moist skin,

we offer our willing senses.



All that ever shouts or whispers back, is fear.



Cindy Steffen