I had to take this through window glass and crop it, but it made me very happy! I cannot offer a crane poem tonight, but hope to write one if I get many more experiences of this. So here is a penguin instead. You will note that he is very intellectual. And so good night.
To a Penguin in the New York Aquarium
It generally begins with tricks. An animal show
with the serried ranks, eyes and medals front:
A trio of seals, juggling balls on their noses, slim
Flexi-statues, synchronized by their trainers
Like Broadway chorines, or men mooching on street corners,
Lissomly draped around fire escapes. And then he came,
This young penguin with the name of a German philosopher,
Who just stood there, didn't do anything, couldn't do anything,
A hero of early vaudeville, of flickering black-and-white
Comedies, imperiled by flights of steps. By a windy world,
Secret favorite pf a minority of the childish electorate,
He was the butler in tails, teetering on the brink of the pool,
Shivering on his flippers, swishing his wings. His performance
Faultlessly abject, down to the exit, sloping off without a bow.
Durs Grunbein, translated from the German by Michael Hofmann in
Ashes for Breakfast, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, NY, Page 177.