Above the estuary,
on a blue-steel pole,
the kingfisher leans out and drops.
With a bow and open winged curl,
she recovers her ladder of air, and climbs.
For a few everlasting seconds,
she claps her wings with speed,
and stays, furiously stationary.
Then folding mind and wings behind,
she dives—a gathering gale, a dread arrow—
her crown and thick neck split the water,
and her razor body is entombed.
In moment she is pulled free,
and rises like Isis into the blue heaven.
