by John Delaney

If patience needs a test, this would be one—

joining a group on a hilly outcrop

early in the morning, peeling cobwebs

back, binoculars and scope at hand.

The first hour passes, and some are done

already, pulled away by alternative time,

prior appointments and necessities

that made their presence known. You understand,

and think back to other times you waited

for disappointment to show its hangdog head.

Not this time, though, as the prized bird swoops down

suddenly, perches on a branch like a god.

No, the subject wasn’t overrated,

as all around the camera lenses click,

capturing the iridescent color,

the lengthy, resplendent tail feathers—awed.

I’ve never stood in one place for so long.

Patience is a prayer. Don’t get me wrong.

The Quetzal (‘god of the air’) was highly regarded by the Maya and Aztecs; its feathers often adorned the headdresses of their priests and emperors. A rare and elusive bird, its habitat is now threatened.

John Delaney’s publications include Waypoints (2017), a collection of place poems, Twenty Questions (2019), a chapbook, Delicate Arch (2022), poems and photographs of national parks and monuments, Galápagos (2023), a collaborative chapbook of his son Andrew’s photographs and his poems, Nile (2024), poems and photographs about Egypt, and Filing Order: Sonnets (2025). He lives in Port Townsend, WA.