Heron, Rock Creek Park
A blue heron stands
in the creek, waiting
for a silvery flash
in sun-sparkled water.
Beak, neck, rump, legs --
sinuous but still,
the heron stares for
hours, days. His hunger
gnaws time, until he
sees past and future
in glints and glimmers
and liquid shadow --
sees the creek before
concrete and bridges,
the fish schooling long
after the bridges fall.
The turtles basking
on logs have endless
memories, but not such
vision; the fish dart
through ripples of time,
remembering nothing.
The hungry heron sees,
and waits, and knows.
September, 2000
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