Bird Sanctuary --

these, the shallow

waters; there, in the distance

the heron

steps, deliberate, arching

his white wing in

the wind -- we

think of old resolutions, sincere

intentions, all

that fades with water

in the eyes

and blood on the tongue, sharp

with inspiration -- the

birds will

breathe

there, quietly assessing the situation

with hardly

a nod of the head; these

sprung waters, mangroves

twisted in shadow, we

feel it all

as part of our inheritance, a

land that is not our own but on which

we may

live at peace with

the ibis, the anhinga, the

snake coiled

on the rocks; the

Sun shines

on our backs as we

fall

into the music of a

quiet summer night, the

flamingos and spoonbills witness

to our

history --

*