(Pacific Golden Plover)


On a green landscaped stretch

overlooking the ocean

stands a lone bird,

brown in October,

radiant in April,


one leg stuck in its feathers

as a gentile man of old

might stuff his hand

in the right pocket

of a suit jacket;


a sharp dark face,

dashing white collar,

exotic slits for eyes;


no call or cry or chirp.


Though its diamond raiment


it is exalted not

for flesh tearing claws,

fierce hooked beak

or symbol of might,

but for its stature:


brilliant in obscurity,

noble and serene,

gravitas in the grass.



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