Casmerodius albus

Taking a break from the short story. Enjoy a sonnet for Resurrection Sunday.

Casmerodius albus, the Great Egret
in the Wilson Library at UNC-CH

The single bulb casts shadows more than light
around the egret on display in a box
of Plexiglas. Behind the bird is a slight
sketch of its habitat without the stocks
of a public beach: towels, chairs and beer.
Its spindle legs are bound to snap;
the feathers, gray like a rotting pear,
to disintegrate. A curator will wrap
its long-dead body up in cloth. I watched
an egret stand in water at low-tide
last summer, still as death, until the blotched-
red, evening sky darkened. His flight became a glide
above marsh grass and the bull rush; he cast
his shadow, black like thunder clouds that have passed.