Whitewater Draw — Image by kenne
The Sandhill Crane
***
The fields are alive with murmuring sound
I see the crane ever dancing around
They stand, they sit, all over the place.
like a babbling brook with a stony face.
When one takes flight they all follow suit
to the skys they twine with a bellowing hoot
Flapping, grappling on awkward stilts
painting the sky in patchwork quilts.
A new field awaits their homely roost
giving their journey a relieving boost
A stop in Nebraska just passing through.
Visitors pay homage to this sandhill crew.
Finding the sanctuary a yearly reprieve
until they decide to leap and leave.
Journey’s end to their timely stay
The sandhill crane must now fly away.
