Birds of a Feather
Lake laps the shore,
sun halo diamonds dance,
a call for me.
Awkward girl unsure
is made certain by
the water's calm.
First feet,
then body, slip
below and I am a mermaid.
Reassured, this is
my world.
As I emerge, a Canada goose glides over
me.
Flaps until her wingtips break
the water's surface and
lands.
I look at her.
She looks at me.
She has no flock.
Alone.
I dive.
She follows.
Back and forth I paddle,
she stays by my side.
The afternoon, our conversation.
The lake, our understanding.
And as I retreat to the beach,
she waddles behind me.
Overhead a flock honks
and she must go.
Left with a feather,
a reminder that this is
our place.
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| Regina Gort boating on Lake Superior |
