Egret Poem by Michael Estabrook

egret poem




Tall gray bird, an egret I think, standing

in the shallows of a small pond over in

the fields behind the high school,

poised, quiet, elegant, intensely

focused, his head with its long beak

snapping suddenly like a whip

into the water, stabbing at one

of the innumerable, plump, brown

tadpoles beginning to kick their frog

legs. But he misses, comes up dry,

his beady eyes staring down

into the dark water, incredulous

at having missed and,

if I didn’t know better, a little

bit embarrassed about it too.


Egret © Michael Estabrook 2012