Old Woman Swamp Scarlet Ibis |work| Page

The ibis leaped. For one terrible, glorious moment, it hung in the air like a thrown coal. Then its wings caught the wind, and it rose above the sawgrass, above the cypress knees, a streak of defiance against the green gloom. It circled once—a perfect, burning wheel—and then it flew south, toward the sea.

A bird. A scarlet ibis.

Elara wiped her hands on her apron and rose slowly, her knees cracking like twigs. The ibis stood on one leg, its long, curved beak trembling. Its feathers, once the blaze of a tropical sunrise, were matted and dull. One wing dragged in the tannin-black water. It did not try to fly when she approached. old woman swamp scarlet ibis