Mated Pheasants

      Their carriages are upright
      in a dry green.  They stand
      at once passionate and familiar,
      His beak is respectful, level,
5     rather than diffident in uptilt,
      his tail a downward sloping tube
      like a story.  His face is bright
      and remembers everything, one formidable claw
      hangs, while flat the other holds him
10    steady to the earth, hangs gloved
      in dust immeasurably.  While she
      in straight grass stands
      Popped-up from an unexpected bush.

 

From the collection "Youth Youth Youth"

Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]

More information available on gregglory.com.