Image for the poem The Heron

The Heron

Itís as if these hills hold a second sight  
The sycamores when still and silent  
Ghostly white and they weep for the empty rookery  

The heron †
Just as pale and blue  
Stand an apparition on the banks  
Lonely for the colony and its need  
He is smoke to my water  
The current moves me through his gaze  
Holds me there through the bend  
And then I drift beyond it  

He remains  
like my history †
And its fog of memory  
To keep the edge  
To eye the flow †
Dig capable whistled leg  
Into pale hues of fossils †
And time placed compression †
Impressions of my used to be  

The prowlers with yellow eyes  
Curve and sweep †
The startling screech †
Cries fear †
Into the calm of all this †
Beauty †
But often eerie †
And foreshadowing quiet  
Brushy tails shiver my good sense  

I will go to the river  
And strip down to nothing †
But the peach of me †
And the wonder in my regard †
Of all of this  
And its spiritual entry into my being  
Dive in and feel my soul float  
Out of the cool caress of my skin  

The night and its moon †
Will color me an orgasmic  
But pale mood †
To suit the atmosphere †
And its esoteric tastes  
I will be a mystic here  
And chant my name to the stars
Written by Calamityofgin
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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