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The Great White Egret
Day after day it comes to these mud flats
along with hot and hazy August mornings
to feed on the returning tide’s bounty
of small fish and other tiny sea life. The smell
of sea-water rises above wharfs and enters
open windows of small cottages facing the flats.
Like a match bursting in a white flash it alights
in shallow water, slides its wings in place and stands
with beak pointing downward, patiently gazing
into the water, its white reflection shimmering
ghostly like wetness seeping into paper.
Then with lightning speed its beak darts into
the water and a catch: a small sunfish with prickly
fins and tail; its scales glistening as it wriggles to
escape the beak’s hold, a futile struggle.
In amazement I watch the egret maneuver
the sunfish in its beak until its head faces
the opening of the egret’s long claustrophobic
throat, and carefully chugs it down. Its hunger
rewarded, it leaps to catch a sudden breeze, banks,
and vanishes over marsh grass like a puff of smoke.
Copyright ©
Maurice Rigoler
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