One day I sat wilted

On the edge of the drying pond

 

Reed stalks cracked under summer’s heavy

Breath

 

Burnt earth quivered

With reflected heat

 

Blue sky wavered

With shriveled clouds

 

Across the pond, silent

Like me, stood the heron

 

Stately, steady, standing

Erect against the blaze

 

It walked smooth, long steps

Through the muck of tangled pondweed

 

Defiant in its coolness,

Blue-grey resolution against the flame

 

Standing tall in the dry, scorched, and empty

Slowly it unfolded

 

Majestic wings, and soared

So close to the sun

 

Its feathers seemed to catch

Fire

 

And it glided steady across the quivering sky

Out of my sight