Where are all the birds?

Lord, all winter, I wondered.

Where are all the birds?

Where are my Black-necked Stilt Walkers,

prancing through the shallows,

in carnival masks?

Where are my Snowy Egrets,

yellow-feet clasped around branches,

feathers, like lacy wedding veils?

Where are my Little Blue Herons,

the juveniles, sporting their own personal

ombre-effect of whites transitioning to blue?

Where are the numbers?

Where are all the birds,

the egrets, the herons, the ibises,

fighting and flying,

and challenging each other

for this spot of water in the sunrise?

I found them today.

All it took was a right turn,

instead of a left.