Great Blue


The Great Blue Heron is back.
My friend. I know him from
the missing feathers on his
left wing. He doesn’t mind me
watching him. Or, he cannot
see as he carefully steps over
the frozen pond like a dancer
proud but past his prime.

The sun peeks over the bare
branches each morning.
The old Heron greets her.
As I do, walking, praying,
stepping carefully, so he
is not disturbed. But as
we move, he sees me
with his good eye.
With open wings, he dashes
across the pond. Still in
sight, but far enough away
to keep me in my place.

Susan Ward Trestrail, 2017



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