Egrets are all over Cairo, clustered in trees
like huge, feathery beasts spreading
their angelic wings before blessing
trees and parked cars with thick white splats.
In the rice paddies, each resting on one leg,
they are graceful ballerinas gazing over
their watery domain before taking flight
with shadowy bats and diaphanous butterflies.
In the city, though, they are unwanted
interlopers, these ethereal descendants
of dinosaurs, and like polar bears, wolves
and spotted owls, we no longer think
they, or a multitude of other creatures,
deserve a place at the table. What
we ignore, though, is there may no
longer be a place there for us either.