At the rookery, cormorants converse,
a cacophony of baby-birds including
egrets and herons calling for fish,
more fish, more fish.
They return yearly to nest over, under,
and by each other, crowding close—
the egrets’ ivory beauty brings joy to this
voyeur who stares into their homes
as fledglings stretch wings and squabble.
I focus on a parent perched on the highest
branch appearing happy for solitude,
his chance to primp and preen.
His yellow beak aligns quills on wings
and attends to aigrettes or mating plumes
as each fan unfurls. Balanced on one leg
at a time, he lifts a foot with its fork-like
prongs to scratch his chin and curved
neck tower—lingering inch by inch as if
enjoying this massage. I must leave—
my limbs stretch as I wish for wings.