Loons

My beloved grew up on Long Island. I spent summers in Northern Minnesota. Loons are different creatures to both of us.

Every summer

We listened to loons

Eerie calls

Watched them dive,

Carry babies

On their backs

Until it was time

To return to the ocean.

They were silent there.

Their feathers changed

So my beloved

Never knew

It was the same bird

I knew

When I grew up.

No eerie calls

No black and white

Feathers

But dull brown.