Stork-eyed

A stork eyed me
by the ferry for Coronado
Island, wondering whether
the new birth in its beak
was intended for me.

I cried out:
I’ll take that please!
She cocked her head, not
altogether convinced by my
enthusiasm, my eagerness
to leave everything behind
and be made new.

The stork retorted:
Did you count the cost?
In truth, I had to say that
I had only counted the
sailboats near the pier, and
the shekels in my pocket, to
see if I had fee for ferry.

The stork said “satis est.” My
pining was sated; my worries
abated and I fell
into tomorrow.