Quails

Meg Kearney

     Pliny told that migrating quails rested in such numbers on the

     sails of ships at night that the vessels were in danger of sinking.

     -- from 100 Birds and How They Got Their Names

All night our ship creaks

 and groans under the weight

of countless scale-bellied

 quails. Bad luck to shoot

them -- so fifty-two men

 dream of drowning while

white-feathered crests sag

 our rigging worse than any

wave. Still, death by bird

 is not how we plan to go.

We pass some rot-gut wine

 in the dark while the deck

turns slick with shit. Touching

 crosses round their necks,

those who believe side with

 drunks who think they see a pink

horizon, but dawn comes

 only when it's ready. Then

the sailor who sees farthest

 bows before the bevy（一群） of quails（鹌鹑）

rising reluctant but steady

 toward their memories of stars.