Wetlands
STACY MURISON
Reeds weighted with melting snow,
bent from winter winds.
A shadow climbs.
Grips a stalk with tender talons,
shuffle-skates to the top—
picks at the catkin,
releases seeds
to the wind.
Feels the eyes of others waiting,
watching.
Pulls up from the stalk,
up from the diaphragm,
rotates black wings
until red epaulets erupt.
Now, sings.
Trills into evening sky
as geese climb
from water to shore.
Rebalances,
rotates talons,
sings again.
STACY MURISON is a writer and educator who calls Flagstaff home. Her work has appeared in Assay, Atticus Review, Brevity’s Nonfiction Blog, Hobart, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, River Teeth, The Hong Kong Review, and The Rumpus, among others. In another life, she may have been a bird.
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I went to Kachina Wetlands for the first time in spring 2019 to learn bird watching from a true birder. Although migration season had just passed, the birds were plentiful and the way the sun's rays hit all of the cattails and grasses made me forever call that moment before dusk the golden hour. It's where I go to reconnect with nature and myself and, no matter the season, it is always beautiful, especially at sunset.