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
