Christmas Island Frigatebird
By Kathryn S
The broad lapels of his wings
t i l t g l i d e s o a r
polishing the ripples of parquetry.
He dances a slow zephyr waltz
in the luffs and ruffles
of the warm tropical wind.
His red gular is puffed
bow-tie proud,
and he swings a graceful crescent
on the waft and current.
Dipping low, he swoops,
scoops a flying fish
out of water
and gulps mid-air his dancing feast.
Tuxedoed white chest
and pointed wingtips wide,
he glistens in the sun’s chandelier.
The papaya sunset
shadows his form in valse,
and the equatorial music fades.