Sandhill Cranes

Grey, tall, gentle, slow,

The sandhill cranes feed,

Catching insects, plucking grass.

I ask myself: are they aware of their gentleness,

Are they aware of their grey and tall slowness?

Do they know the mark they make upon the land, and

How they make noble the winter afternoon?

Perhaps.

Perhaps they do.  Perhaps in the brain curled inside

The red-capped head

There is an electric synapse much like mine

Much like yours,

All made noble on this winter afternoon.

--February 14, 2013