I think it’s a cormorant
Spreading
its wings,
Just waiting
to see what
This afternoon
brings.
It sits on a
log on
The riverbed’s
bank,
Its beak
poking into
Its chest,
neck and flank.
I’m on a
bench watching
The bird do
its thing
And wond’ring
how long
It will wait
to take wing.
It has no
awareness
That I’m even
here
And doesn’t
display
Any interest
or fear.
A pigeon, however,
Just strutted
right by
And stopped
for a snack,
But I couldn’t
comply.
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