Sandhill Cranes Revisited
by Michael Doyle

Every year
   Sometimes twice a year
We would make our pilgrimage
   Off to Jasper Pulaski
Tens of thousands of cranes
   Filled the air
Zoning in on their nesting grounds

Zig-zag patterns as grouping
   Crossed by grouping 
Into what looks like feathered paratroopers
   Coming in for a landing

It is said that sandhill cranes
   Mate for life when it's possible
Sticking together in familial groups
   Sometimes with their fledglings along
I sometimes wish I had been so blessed
    But humans are different
Or so I guess...

Other times,
    We'd watch their courtships in motion
Rituals of dance
     That seemed so inspired in every moment
Sounding off in romance
      Bobbing and weaving 
They danced, these romantic couples
      There on their migrations 
The cranes did not forget who they loved
      In all the thousands of miles of flight
The cranes remembered 
       As they danced and rested

There on one of the two migratory routes
     That stretched
              From the North of Canada 
                   To the south in Florida
This great midwestern flyway
     Was ingrained in their minds and hearts
Somehow they knew its history well
     Now as I think and I wonder
         I puzzle over the things 
               That passed for hardship
                    But were they really so

Sometimes, we would stand watching
      From the wooden observation platform
There at the semi-marshy field 
      Designated by humans as the point
Where humans would gather to watch 
      History in the yearly making
Filed with sandhill cranes 
      Who only kept flying, dancing, and eating
And while we came to recognize some
      We humans, if even a trace, were only fleeting
In the observations of the cranes, we came to see

The promises that we made were in vain
      As we watched these cranes in snow and rain
And other times, we would drive the cornfields
      Mostly harvested but still holding nourishment
In the spring, these fields newly planted
       And had scrabbles of food for the birds to eat
Funny how nature holds to its promises and keeps them
       As best that it can, survival finds its way
We would watch and learn from these familial units
       And I would think on their natural wisdom

Familial units, that in some ways, 
       Were much like ours
We watched as momma and poppa taught their young
        Us watching them with...happiness
Them watching us with disregard... or weariness
Nature knows its cycles
        There is much to learn from that

It's good to know some things really do last
       Cranes mate forever
Or until one or the other dies
       It is said that they sorrow when that happens
Cranes mate forever
        Humans fail at that far too often
For thousands of years, this has been a lesson taught
        When I look at our children, I hope they have
They learned this and will carry this tradition
        To their next generation
The way that it should be
        The way that it could be
If only, humans were better at learning

(c) June 2, 2023  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved