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