Five stories above the Gulf beach
Shakespeare’s dictum that all the world’s a stage
applies to those players on view below
sauntering, running, or strutting their hard-won, sweat-glistened bodies.
 
A great blue heron, oblivious to this parade of human vanity,
follows closely the lone angler’s movements,
waiting for the line to jerk, waiting for her shift in focus,
signaling a catch. The  bird, more vigilant
than the woman, can’t quite manage a stealth move.
The fish is tossed in a bucket, the lid snapped shut. The heron can
stand there all day, on one leg and then the other,
beggary shining from its eyes. The angler won’t bite.
 
Two bottlenose dolphins, one a baby,
are also fishing but know enough to steer clear of rod and line.
They delight the amblers who stop to watch them idly float
perilously close to shore, then dart away. Their smooth backs
arch and gleam. If they were bipeds they’d be kicking sand.


© by CJ Muchhala.
Used with the author's permission.