a sight made me stop and stare
a gathering of ibis
white as altar cloth
on my neighbor’s dying grass
a conference had been called
more birds arrived in groups
graceful swooping squadrons
wings tipped with ebony
circling slow to land
beaks like shepherd’s crooks
blood-orange stalks of leg
bowing heads and grunting chants
a manna feast of bugs
an avian hallowed ground
a schoolboy of twelve or so
trudged down the sidewalk path
hey look they’re thirty birds, I point
he glanced and smiled and quickly passed
polite but unimpressed
sights like these may be for eyes
who’ve learned to measure time in breaths
I sighed and opened the front door
the scent of fresh ground coffee
rose like incense in the air
Author Bio:
Carol Folsom used to practice law but now finds joy in practicing poetry. She is proud that she was a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy JAGC Corps for three years. She was awarded a Lily scholarship to a poetry workshop in Collegeville, MN, , and has been published most recently in Algebra of Owls, Belle Reve Journal, and On the Veranda. Her work is soon to appear in Edify Fiction.