Shy Guy


I went back to that very same place
where the string lilies had been
lighting the open green space

Back to the bench of wood
where we had etched our names;
several weeks had passed, four maybe.

The blossoms, vanished entirely,
beauty too brilliant to last; but
this day, something else revealed itself

Amidst grasses, gray, beige and straw,
with teal colored head and pointy beak,
a Little Green Heron was patiently stalking

In shallow water on yellow legs;
like a statue, stood he,
exquisitely quiet

Then he crept,

slowly

— in a flash
nabbed his prey!

We spent a fine half hour or so
observing this rare creature’s ways,
til he became aware of us

And flew off, with outstretched neck,
across the great marsh, to
a more secluded section.
 
By Karen Bressner