They waddle and dive into the water as if
they could find a fish or two in this little pond at the zoo.
Once, on a trip around the Horn, we stopped at Punta Tombo,
to see the penguins who lived there.
Uncaring of humans, they carried on
as if we were invisible.
Signs told us to: Stay on the Path!
Those penguins couldn't read. Deep in moulting season,
with youngsters by their side, they carried out their business,
waddling, yes, waddling in that cold, fierce wind
down to the nearby ocean, its waves no less intense,
to catch a fish or two to bring home.
I could have stayed there longer, on that narrow path,
delighting in another world, simplified to essentials,
the young to nurture, the sea close by, and these
bumbling humans? Rather like part of the landscape,
something temporary, nothing important,
at least to the penguins.
Those penguins couldn't read. Deep in moulting season,
with youngsters by their side, they carried out their business,
waddling, yes, waddling in that cold, fierce wind
down to the nearby ocean, its waves no less intense,
to catch a fish or two to bring home.
I could have stayed there longer, on that narrow path,
delighting in another world, simplified to essentials,
the young to nurture, the sea close by, and these
bumbling humans? Rather like part of the landscape,
something temporary, nothing important,
at least to the penguins.
Magellanic penguin, Punta Tombo, Argentina
Moulting Magellanic penguin, Punta Tombo
Walking the Penguin Path, Punto Tombo
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