Have you ever seen the shorebirds dance?
in Salt Lake Summers, I hope you catch a glimpse of them.
I myself have seen them only once.
The Wilson’s Phalarope is
a bird slender-necked,
with feathers of slate-grays,
rich terra cotta browns.
she is a dancer in the summertime.
when the lake begins to stink to high heavens here.
sulfurous rich and briny
find her on the shore, pirouetting.
Phalaropes, you see, are dancing
for the brine shrimp.
or rather in the hopes of stirring them up
from their sunken rest
and whirling the fairy-bodied shrimp to the surface of the lake.
Phalaropes dance because they must.
They must eat.
They must eat enough shrimp to fly.
They must eat enough to fly nearly 6000 miles
to the coast of Laguna Mar Chiquita,
the little saline sea
of Argentina, South America.
I wonder if,
when the fluffy chicks emerge
born on the soft-sand shores
of THIS Great Salt Lake
one by one by one by one
I wonder if,
their fathers tell them,
hijas, cuando yo nací,
the shoreline hugged me
and my sisters.
water nestled against the
winding coast, waves a lullaby
and whisper so much closer than you can ever
begin to imagine.
when the sagebrush reached the deep water tide.
I wonder if he tells them how he used to
dance,
dance tango over the water when it was large enough
to catch falling sunsets,
or the hungry ballet of shrimp-filled summertimes.
I wonder if he tells them this and
looks out now.
Mud and parched earth-bed and
feels the kind of deep-bone ache you get from wishing for
something
you cannot get back.
I wonder then,
if the Phalaropes will find somewhere else to dance.
Frances is a tiny poet who appreciates the birds and chilly sunrises of GSL. She’s made many fond memories with her loved ones by the lake and hopes many more people will be able to do the same in the lake’s future.