He bends his neck double
preening a stubborn spot
balancing on a high budding branch
aloof, unemboldened
by Charlotte’s glimpsing him
on the Philly to Boston Regional Rail.
He will soon stretch out
and reach down to his right side.
If one tuft feels right rubbed,
so will the other.
Not his rite of courtship
not serving up an ace
not an unforced error.
Great. Unforced egret.
photographer: Ross Smith
