The Tricolored Heron

A young heron,

Just starting to show its life feathers,

Already looking fierce, competent, full of grace.

Stalking the brackish water near the lake’s shore,

Its whole self-absorbed in catching a wholesome minnow.

Spreading its splendid wings, casting a shadow

Over minnow land, then…

Strike!

The long neck of grace flashed the sword-beak

Into the muck, catching a prize,

Gargling it down its  narrow neck,

Shaking it down into its young craw,

Rising now to do a celebratory shake,

To resume the minnow hunt.

Coming upon it on this late August morning

Lifted me up into a proper realm.

Snapping photographs of the heron,

Rendered me more noble, gifted with a precious gift,

Of calm, of grace.

--August 30, 2013