Friday, January 18, 2008

Gary LeBel: SPORT

Surprised by my sudden appearance, the heron spreads its powerful wings, spring-loads its long elastic neck and then leaps up from the shoreline into the air, the whoosh of its wing-beats clearly audible. It flies low and out over the water until spied by a boater who turns and, increasing his speed, pursues it like a cheetah.

He chases it across the lake and into the woods of the opposite shore before veering sharply back out into the channel again, and his other Sunday amusements: it is in the most casual of acts that I become deeply afraid for our fate.

in cast off molt
the small dark tips
of the crawdad’s eyes

by Gary LeBel
Cumming, Georgia

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