Derivative of Galloway and Sharp
Egrets write their stories with their wings, telling tales
of goodfellas who visit the marshy places of the turnpike,
singing the praises of forgotten cannoli and buttered rolls
and the fallen-down stalks of half-grown sweet corn,
never flying to warmer places, forgetting til it’s too late
that it didn’t used to snow here like this.
Egret sounds like regret.