Previously published in The Weekly Avocet.
Greater Sandhill Cranes are sojourners in Tennessee, caught between summer nests in Wisconsin and wintering grounds in Florida. Their rattling call is a trumpet in the skies. They gather at their staging area near Birchwood and call me to watch flights and arrivals. Three friends and I traveled to Hiwassee Refuge to watch the red headed dancers proclaim a restless domain on the shore, gray wings jostling like aggressive shoppers on Black Friday. Cold air bit my nose and cheeks; sent needles through my gloves. Warm air and tang of Barbecue revived me at the program hall.
Cranes line windy shore
Lift and call across cold water
Homeward then we fly
I am now preparing a broadside of Haiku and prose on Crane Viewing.
Greater Sandhill Cranes are sojourners in Tennessee, caught between summer nests in Wisconsin and wintering grounds in Florida. Their rattling call is a trumpet in the skies. They gather at their staging area near Birchwood and call me to watch flights and arrivals. Three friends and I traveled to Hiwassee Refuge to watch the red headed dancers proclaim a restless domain on the shore, gray wings jostling like aggressive shoppers on Black Friday. Cold air bit my nose and cheeks; sent needles through my gloves. Warm air and tang of Barbecue revived me at the program hall.
Cranes line windy shore
Lift and call across cold water
Homeward then we fly
I am now preparing a broadside of Haiku and prose on Crane Viewing.
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