prayer on the marsh

if you would, god,
spare the egrets.
let them be.

leave them to their long-beaked wanderings.
leave them to their moonlight zen.
leave them to their tiptoed inquiry.
give them their full measure of
egret happiness.

they've done so little to disturb the planet
from evolving.
they forgive even my hasty strolls past them,
say nothing when i trip on my own shoelaces
and curse into the darkness.
they hear the curse
and move on,
silent as fog.

i'm doing the best i can, god,
but i can't lie.
i've kicked up a lot of
useless dust.
destroyed things.

not the egrets.
they've promised nothing
they couldn't deliver.
they love this place
because it's that simple.

each night,
despite all of our rude encroachments
they graze on the expanse
with such generous quiet,
such guiltless tranquility
and for this, god,
for this,
they deserve to be saved.