Wow!
Pteranodon!
No.
Grey heron.
Ancient monster both in size
and bizarre
folded neck;
in spread and curve of wing
as a bay flew -
that under such dark arc of mothership
might toddler pause mid-lick,
ice cream atop a cone tongue-molded,
sigh for sun gone in,
Dum and Dee cease their squabbling
thinking the bird had come for them.
Slow, elegant, easeful,
in partnership with air and gravity
umbrellas away...
but why...
ah, passing through
this blue-collar neighborhood
to Willaston,
where carp ponds are.
