dancing cranes at the zoo . . .

My own photograph of the crane dancing right before his feeding didn’t turn out, but here is the poem I wrote afterward. The crane reminded me so much of my nephew sneaking up on my mother, it made me laugh.

Dancing Before Dinner

The crane moves

to the rhythms

of a wild orchestra

only he can hear.

Wings open, waving

and jerking,


running on

giant tip-toe steps,

like a young boy

sneaking up behind

his grandmother

sitting at the table

sipping her tea,


she doesn’t see

or hear him.