Cormorants
 
Black and sleek as steely-eyed
deacons, ascetic and aloof,
             the cormorants
disdain the jostling waves, riding
peaks and troughs, placid as flatirons.
             One suddenly
upends and disappears a full
minute or more, some fifty yards
             away emerging.
Preying and gorging, they float fastidious,
always unruffled, unperturbed
             by appetite.

Though half-submerged they do aspire.
Persuaded finally into flight
             they gather speed
and skip tiptoe on wave tips like
flat stones flung side-arm from the shore,
            wings flailing.
Full bellies when they would be light
belie the anorexic pose,
            rob them of grace.
With difficulty they enter heaven,
rise and take dominion, running
            unopposed.