REGARDING THE CRANES

The cranes, knee-deep in ice water,
throw sticks and spread their wings
to frighten me. They call loudly:
in ropes of steam, they cry.
I would almost like to clutch them,
as I would like to clutch their necks,
or their frosty, thin legs. Beams,
they are composed of, beams compose.

Geese sleep on one leg, balancing.
Peacocks, they sleep up in the trees.
Cranes catch their rest in glimpses—
soar as high up as they can,
nap falling, and catch themselves in time.
It sounds unbelievable, I know—
but such are the oddities of Nature;
such are Science’s discoveries.

Liam Gerhart is the author of one volume of poetry, Yellow Rintekelberg, and has had his poems published in Rattle, The Ilanot Review, Wild Roof Journal, and Detroit Lit Mag. He is an adjunct professor of English literature at the University of Virginia.