Usually a pair, at times a threesome,
migrants from far far north, they roam
the fairways, their dagger beaks unbury
worms and beetles, leave holes to trap golf balls.
Graceful, self-assured they pay no heed to golfers.
Resume their stately gait, break into simultaneous
leaping pirouettes, a ritual to display their
joy at courting as faithful constant mates.
Today, our backyard feeder spilled sunflower
seeds, enticed a pair of red-topped cranes
to spend an hour to feast, no dig required.
Sated, they depart, unhurried, in a stilted stride.