The White Flash of Egrets at the Creek

I'm going to have to create a chapbook of bird poems, I think. Lesser and greater egrets at the local creek, hummingbirds, woodpeckers, mourning doves, crows all have made their way into my work. If I count up the number of bird poems I've written it probably could form a whole book! This one is from my new book, Gods of Water and Air, available at Amazon.
As Yearning Is Red

Sudden as a hat is ripped away
by the wind, he was over my head.
Long, black legs scissored together
as he plowed the seamless sky
with a beak like a boat’s prow.
His wings rowed lazily.

There’s little reason to look up
when I walk. I passed as he paused
to float on a thermal.
I was heading downhill
and he was gliding
down to the creek.
We were nearly eye level.
I had a precarious feeling,
as if my marching feet
had risen off the ground.

His wings rippled several times
as he held onto the wind.
They rippled again:
a lace bedspread shaken out.
He was white as yearning
is red and still as night’s
first sip of moon.

Then the luminous being was gone,
leaving me ruffled and aired,
forever feathered,
able to lift
on the beat of a breath.