Yellow-eyed and awkward walking,
Head a-bob, the air shaped blackbird,
glossy in the morning glimmer,
timid, tastes the lake-shore rim.
Still suspicious, sidelong glancing,
hops a few more steps, like dancing.
Gulping now the lapping water,
trusting in the mountain morning,
flinging water from her feathers,
bathing with her plunging beak,
for a moment startled standing,
then retreating up a tree,
calling out her old suspicions
over walking, water-wading me.
Steven Silent Wolf
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pinecrest-a-m/
