Poetry, memoir,blogs and photographs from my world on the west coast of Canada.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Ode to a heron....
[I lived for a time in Port Albion, on this lovely pond. At sunset, the rosy hue would light up the mountain right outside my door and herons would swoop across to perch in the trees. Sigh.]
Graceful heron
swooping across the evening sky
like a pteradactyl,
Prehistoric bird
perched on a treetop,
My heart swoops with you,
then stills,
standing by the silent pond,
waiting for the night to settle
around us both
softly as feathers.
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Saw a kingfisher on the tree outside the kitchen window. It wasn't looking for the night to settle, it was looking for fish.
ReplyDelete:)
Nice little poem, blue
ReplyDeleteAre you near the water? I so love being within sight and sound of moving water..I do have a creek out back, part of a migratory route for salmon...lovely and rushing in winter but it slows to a treickle this time of year. We had kingfishers at the sea......and puffins and all manner of awesome birds. Here, life is tamer ~ sparrows, robins, woodpeckers, ravens, the occasional eagle and owl.I pine for my seabirds!
ReplyDeleteYou are in a fantastic location blue!
ReplyDeleteOnce in my college days, I found a huge barn owl sitting at the end of the railing just outside my corner room. It was broad daylight and the crows were making a ruckus. Never saw an owl that close. We brought it in, of course, stealthily putting a sack over it and later, released it after the sun had set. Flew straight to the coconut palms opposite the hostel, looked back, uttered an incomprehensible cry and then flew away
Oh this is glorious, Sherry. One of your best. You captured the scene so poignantly. I love the last three lines - what a great metaphor (wish I'd written it ;)
ReplyDeleteA great nighttime poem one can relax to!
ReplyDeleteVery calming. I really enjoyed this poem.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading this, Sherry. When I lived back in England I used to ride my bicycle down on the canal towpath. Invariably I was visited by a heron, who would rise so silently and gracefully from the grass.
ReplyDeleteAlso, when I was a child the village I lived in, Bolsover, was once visited by a ghost. lol It apparently scared a lot of people at the time. One guy, the local tough guy, went out one night and shot it with his shotgun. It turned out to be a heron, poor creature.
Love Herons - Awesome.
ReplyDeleteOh, Sherry your writing makes me want to be near the water. What a lovely poem.
ReplyDeletePamela
elegant.
ReplyDeletelove your word painting.
really nice poem, brought really nice peaceful images to mind.
ReplyDelete"waiting for the night to settle around us both softly as feathers" I just fell in love with that imagery.
ReplyDeleteThis is both peaceful and magnificent....i love it Sherry!
ReplyDelete:-)
Beautiful , love the herons - their great wing span across the sky...the silence of their stand...very nice....bkm
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