Pelican by Sharon Warden

Nasty, brown smelly sludge
covered the pelican
I rescued.  It let me
wash its wings with Dawn,
spray its quaking body
again and again;
contrary to nature
and all wild things,
it submitted to my scrubbing
as if it knew, as it looked into my eyes
that I wanted to fix things up.
Pelican, pelican, that yesterday
wouldn’t have let me within ten feet,
now under my brush.
Fly, fly away now,
soar to the sky, far
from this murky, fouled sea.
You were always my favorite bird;
whenever I saw you I would holler:
“Pelican, pelican.”
I mourn your next of kin
who never made it
to this shore.