Omen of the Blue Heron
As through a fog layer, the sea-scented city park where crows bomb, a warm drowsy spot interprets the bird’s appearance, nuzzled chest feathers open to say, I never forget the dewdrops and sweet william of the mountain westwards, that command me. Come, come. Three minutes. Almost motionless. Tucks head into chest. Then wingspan aloft. Us walkers keep on but I… Read more →
