seen the way a heron balances

–  beautifully

, on murder

they stand in water they are trees

they could be shells carved from shale

except they tip, almost, out of kilter


they are killers,

stalking the face of the waters

so taken with shadows they look

tipsy with their own shadows

in love with the shallows themselves

swallow their own darkness their own quiet

wanting to breathe the quick minnows


heron a tall tower death sleeps in

heron from its height directs

huge shade falls

off & surrounds a priest

crouches before its own shadow

it hides its stomach in


an umbrella of black wings

a comedy of hood and hunch its second

self on the water reels

its bright eyes over

water skulks & runs splashingly

after its own motion

its hard knuckle skull harrows the water




Photo By: Charles Dawley