Cook's Delight

I am Ranec, a crane from Yakutia
That was, the place where I was born
Hot in the summer, cold in the winter
And that's why in April we're drawn
Back to the great Arctic Tundra
Where Black Cranes and Eagles do ply
Where the marshlands are rich with mosses and plants
A vast land that so truly, enchants

In Winter great malevolent clouds
come along
And with them great masses of snow
A more ferocious time, there isn't a rhyme
Or reason, for the storms that do blow
And its so dark, the sun well just sleeps all day there
And food is as scarce as can be
So the need is to winter and of course where I winter
Is in Iran where Lone Wolf I can see

He is one of those sensitive humans
A kind and considerate soul
Using his camera to shoot us
Not those terrible fire sticks that bowl
Us over, to torture and tear us
The vile ones whose features are rough
They are known as hunters, who indiscriminately kill
and reckon themselves to be tough

They stand with their dogs clearly starving
We do see their ribs from great heights
They shoot us and kill us some left
where they fall,
that's when all of our days become nights
I am incredibly endangered
Just me, Old Ranec just me
In April I hope to get back to my home
But I might get shot down possibly

There are some 3000, who winter in China
But they have a big problem too
The 3 Gorges Dam is causing a jam
And many don't know what to do
The plants we need grow in the wetlands
And clearly its habitat loss
Bringing the threat of disaster
For some humans do not care a toss

Fereydoon Kenar, I like it
A resort on the Caspian Sea
It has wonderful fresh plants
and lots of sweet weeds
All chlorophyl rich so they be
Nutritious a memorable supplement
Balanced, they do keep me strong
And I do find they suit my digestion
and all in all that can't be wrong

Last year 3 of my companions
Followed me here but, yes they
All met their maker
And died as you do
So I'm the last one left today
Its awful to think, that when I die
That will be it for the race
But human's appear so uncaring
and ignorant too, so I face

The next few years hoping to find
her
A lady with whom I can mate
I am sure she is out there
I am looking so hard
And to find her would now just be great
My snowy white feathers are handsome
With black primaries seen from the sky
and a naked red face
We fly high with some grace
And the last thing I want, is to die

Poem written inspired by my Brother
Lone Wolf