POEM OF THE WEEK: The Egrets of Lake De Forest

BY HARRY WAITZMAN

The Egrets of Lake De Forest

make me dizzy when they perch high
on half-sunken branches, beaks holing
the wind, letting air out of fog.

These birds eye unshaven men in Ford
pickups careening down reservoir road
blind to egrets fishing for frogs,

with one foot tucked under wing,
while the other lures a finned lunch.
The egrets are monarchs of a green

kingdom, figures of accomplishment
over adversity. Crowd them and they clap
wings silently and disappear into the sun.