In the balmy month of May,
Walking to the bridge one day,
‘Caught a heron fishing there--
Her giant wings rose, slapping air.
Then its mate below I spied --
Great blue bird in shadows hides,
With breast so tan against the sand
While standing silent on the strand.
He thought detection to elude--
And thus to save his fishy food—
While I waited, still as could be,
Spying if he would notice me.
My shifting foot was all it took
To make him leap up from the brook,
Spread his great wings in retreat--
Hanging empty, his long-clawed feet.
first published in Small Brushes (Adept Press)
first published in Small Brushes
also published in FLOOR OF THE SKY Chapbook
©2000 Bonnie Manion