Japanese Red Crowned Crane Poem by Mark R. Rachman

crown of red, skin so white, it matches with the snowy bed.


mate till dead, love so tight, the sky wild like on Pseudeophed.


we met through a gathering, lathering in flattery,


pageantry in tenacity, with no fecundity.


your elegance and regality just light up to stance,


intelligence is the tragedy in the beauty of your dance.


when we fly high it just means something quite interesting,


oh wait, I forgot, that word means nothing, not winter nesting.


death is destined, even with our best of good luck,


our spots, taken, by the creatures, so corrupt.


but till the days end, we'll continue to live on,


two birds of brazen, intertwined as just one.