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When the sun slants
on wings smelling fish
fly the cormorants
to where the home is.

Their memory is a lake
with bountiful food
bill's all the take
that makes living good.

In between the catch
when enough seems done
find a dry patch
hold the wings to sun.

If wishes were heard
it's all I would want
to be turned into a bird
and what else but cormorant!
twig, plastic, wire
laboriously gathered
woven into a basket
with leaves as carpet
where sits the queen
for life to be ushered in.

raises fearful cry
if anyone is nearby
must thwart the enemy
with belligerent cacophony
circle over head to say
stay away.

takes not a minute
to uproot it
falls to the human might
in an unequal fight
between the highly placed
and not so blessed.

then like always
fills uneasiness
a dull ache in the chest
for a sin in haste

a shot of gun
that cannot be undone.
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