Another Poem from "Bright Wings"

A Bird at the Leather Mill
by Joshua Mehigan

The crane stood in the center of the floor
of the mill, lost and tentative. Its bill
looked like a fancy awl with a down handle.
It wore its wings as though they were a shawl
thrown on an idiot. At first the men
imagined that a person had strolled in
like a green salesman or a debutant.
And when the crane walked toward the loading dock,
the men on tiptoe prowled with laundry bags
to grab and hold it like a secret hope
harbored in exile. Later on, at lunch,
they took turns, each explaining what he'd do
if it came back. They bragged , or chaffed, aware
the thing was lost, but never saying so.