The Dance of the Water Ouzel

The sun 
it dances 
across 
the water ouzel's plain,  
the dimpled mirror 
where she catches 
the green-sunken river 
in her beak, 
and carries it, 
fat with caddisflies 
and dragonfly nymphs 
and small, struggling crawdads, 
her eyes trained 
to the warm-sun  
to the cottonwoods 
to the smooth stone  
midway through the river 
where the current ripples 
and wraps like fabric 
around her ankles 
where she blinks 
to show the white blush 
of her eyelids, 
her feathers dry 
and billowed 
and she stretches them 
bobbing up and down 
the dance she always dances 
before she swims 
whole head underwater 
the sun leaking through 
this new sky 
this new sun 
the dance she dances 
for the river 
the dance the river dances 
for her.