PEGGY SHUMAKER

Pájaro Sagrado
    Trogon Lodge, Talamanca Mountains

Okay, see that
            tall white
                        distinctive tree?

Left of that
            tangled
                        clump?

Left of that
            straighter
                        trunk?

Trace it
            almost
                        to the top,

where three
            big branches
                        bear left.

Follow the lowest,
            veer off
                        on that little switch

and there,
            backlit,
                        blink

double quick
            / hold
                        breath / sharpen

focus /There roosts
            resplendent
                        as promised

el quetzal.
            Back to us,
                        he trails

his tail of light,
            trail we might
                        trace

toward quiet.
            Flash of red
                        beneath his wing—

he preens,
            whole being
                        haloed.

A few steps
            higher, our eyes
                        take in

truer colors—
            blue-green
                        of clear sea

over thriving reefs.
            Perhaps he swallowed
                        the tiny avocado

he prefers. Maybe
            that's why
                        he's so still.

Perhaps, like us,
            he has nowhere
                        better to be.