The Whisky Blot
Journal of Literature, Poetry, and Haiku
I spent a pleasant morning walking
quietly around the grounds, searching
for them diligently, but as on most days
they again remained hidden from sight.
I did see several cattle egrets staring
deeply into the foliage, knowing
that breakfast lay hidden deep within,
and a flock of ibis pecking life
from the still wet, just watered lawns.
Today I even saw a Great Blue Heron
admiring herself in the still surface
of the pond across the road, and
a snowy egret and a little green heron
engaged in a silent conversation
to which I would never be privy,
but in the glare of the morning sun,
despite my careful search, not
a single poem showed itself, leaving
me to hope that tomorrow would
bring better luck, or as least a cinquain
or a ballade, not my pantoum of failure.
Louis Faber is a poet living in Florida. His work has appeared widely in the U.S., Europe and Asia, including in the Whisky Blot, Glimpse, South Carolina Review, Rattle, Pearl, Dreich (Scotland), Alchemy Stone (U.K.), and Flora Fiction, Defenestration, Constellations, Jimson Weed and Atlanta Review, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
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