I am re-posting this piece because it is mating season for the Florida cranes. All this week they have not shut up quite frankly. I have dozens of them around my house and they have approached closer than ever walking brazenly across my property without so much as a by your leave. Yesterday three of them were directly outside my front door. The bachelors are dancing for comely young females, those with gorgeous necks and long legs, seeking their lifetime mates while established couples will soon be nesting. In a couple of months the baby birds will be walking about with their proud parents. The procession of the living goes on.
Mom would dust the venetian blinds
every Saturday morning
open and close them
with a pull on the cord
watching the world blink
appear, disappear and change
reappearing the same, but slightly different.
Now cranes appear through open blinds,
unafraid messengers of a sort
spying from their perch, all stilt and neck;
Do they despise us or think we are ugly
thick of leg and round of head
unable to dance?
I have left the city
where people cannot love themselves
to live among the cranes
promenading quietly passed blinded windows
treating me indifferently
as I revel in the accomplishments of quiet.