Stock-still, in perfect discipline,
beak like a saber, thighs as thin
as summer cattail reeds, he’s drawn
to faintest flash of scale or fin.
He’s mindful of all goings-on,
and spots a movement, whereupon
he strikes the dinner plate near shore.
His neck unbends. The fish is gone.
It slipped down whole. And now, once more,
he stands en garde, as if at war,
bearing his sword, a feathered knight,
for other things he’d love to gore.
Then off he flies through what will fight
whatever aims to reach a height
that even eagles seldom win,
and he is lost in cumu-light.
Martin Elster, author of “There’s a Dog in the Heavens!”, is also a composer and serves as percussionist for the Hartford Symphony Orchestra. His poems have appeared in such journals as Astropoetica, The Flea, The Martian Wave, The Rotary Dial, and in the anthologies Taking Turns: Sonnets from Eratosphere, The 2012 Rhysling Anthology, and New Sun Rising: Stories for Japan. Honors include first prize in the Thomas Gray Anniversary Poetry Competition in 2014, first prize in The Oldie’s 2013 annual bouts-rimés competition, and a Pushcart nomination.