They’re bullies and the way they feed is gross,
forcing the smaller fishers to disgorge
their catch in flight, then swooping down to snatch
it for themselves. Along the beach they court
in gangs, frenetically, lacking the charm
of strolling balladeers. Absurdly they
all clack their curious bills and flap their wings,
fluttering for the females overhead,
and then fly off with them to strange lagoons.
Honeymoons there are brief because the males,
like feathery Casanovas, soon decamp,
eager for more romance, stranding their mates,
who contemplate the need to rest alone
in what magnificence the marsh affords.
George Green, Bright Wings, Billy Collins, editor (Columbia University Press, 2010)
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