Standing in water
just beyond a barbed wire fence,
four sandhill cranes
stood on straw thin legs.
Their long, pointed beaks
glared in the sharp morning light.
One lifted its snake neck.
The golden eyes stared
across the fence where I stood.
The crane’s silver body was as stiff
as an electrical pole.
We stood watching each other
waiting for the other to move.
A green Dodge drove by. Frail
dandelion seeds fluttered between
us. Those cirrus clouds close to earth broke
our gaze. The crimson crowned bird
lowered its head and continued feeding.
I watched those sandhill cranes
before heading to my car:
business as usual.