—on seeing a cormorant in town upon a buoy
It may or may not be
that I, a cormorant,
am thinking, this is bliss,
that’s for biologists to figure out,
for cognitive scientists to parse,
let neurologists insist—
For me it’s quite a simple thing:
I’m sitting in the sun upon a buoy
just after diving for my lunch.
I’m drying out. I’m spreading wings.
Am I in bliss? Don’t know,
but I do know this,
I’m in and of what this moment
perhaps not perfectly consists