When Egrets Roost In Ajijic

Whene’er I hear the egrets shriek
Along the shores of Ajijic,
I know it must be roosting time
In this their land of gentle clime.

Look up! White flocks, then hundreds more,
Come soaring off Chapala’s shore.
We stop and stare—the sighting grips us—
Up high among the eucalyptus.

Swifter than the fleet impala,
White egrets roost in shoreline trees.
Tired of fishing Lake Chapala,
They’re gliding in on evening breeze.

And high above in arbor mansions,
They’re fighting over certain branches,
Flapping, squawking, cawing, crying,
Whining, screeching, grumbling, sighing.

They’re settling in, at last it’s done,
Back lit against a setting sun,
My egrets are at last at peace,
Since Nature’s ways will never cease.

Then one white feather flutters down,
Enough to serve as poet’s crown.

—By Mark Sconce—