John Muro Egret A sun so bright it seems To burn blue from air, While here, by tidal waters, A vivid plume of cloud- Melt, a buoy’s body, Legs as thin as the Shafts of a compass And a face that’s fused With the sensuous neck. The head now appears Too far ahead of its body As it leans to surface, Patient as a muse, Hunched until instinct Compels the quick, Lyrical thrust of bill, Like a piston fired, Whistles thru the water’s Canopy of oliveGreen bladder-wrack Neon shimmer Extinguished in Single swallow And the lethal Gaze soon returns To water, much The way memory Might pause in Pursuit of color, Touch or voice.
101
