Low-Flying

 

Slowly the manta ray

Unfolds and undulates

Descending, like an eagle

 

Of the air, through

Updrafts of ocean water

 

What it seeks I cannot

See, because its urgencies

Are defined so differently

 

Fill hunger?  Slake thirst

That, in water, I cannot

Apprehend?

 

Or fly for delight in flight,

Ripping, tearing through

Sea currents, even while

 

Negotiating their fury

 

Can I fly as slowly as the

Ray?  Must I?

 

Two ways of asking this,

I know: Must I not?  Must

I not?

 

May I?  And, if so,

 

Will I?

 

How much of creatures’

Movements, I wonder,

Depend on will