This is a work in progress, meaning that I wrote it years ago and set it aside. Yesterday I looked at it again and made some gentle tweaks. Not enough, but enough for now. Not good yet, but it will lead somewhere.
HERON TIME
Comes a moment
When a heron of stick legs and serpentine neck
Is still
Is still still
Then she steps
Then again as grace would seem
To dictate a plan
We wait for the lash
From the feathered trap
She steps again as rectified
By dragonflies, water
How long until she strikes? No one knows
She is just a heron
It is agony to watch – the vicissitudes of the day demand my attention – distraction and mayhem, Saturday no less, claw at the scene – how long will it take? – instant gratification has no relevance here – you can send your phone to hell along with the whole internet and just stand at the window waiting for some giant bird to come up with a fish-frog-whatever.
Breathe
Things undone should be powerless
Under Heron Time
But they are not
Panic like a wave on the pond
Why do we cede? When did we choose?
She steps again
Through the internet age
Shall we wager on her timing?
Pondbank now
She must be patient, for indecision makes no sense
The backlog of emails says that I can’t stand here all day – the emails are wrong – what is employment compared to watching a heron? – I’m pretty sure I traded Heron Time away in some distant past, but I don’t remember what I received in exchange, other than perhaps exhaustion.
She raises her wings
And lifts — across the water
She lands in silence
Same elegance, same adaptation
Still in sight
But a safer distance from my cacophonic thoughts
That she might be undisturbed
And free to focus on lunch
She is just a heron after all.