The heron stalks into
water
we follow it with our eyes
until it disappears
into the dazzling, heart-shaped chaos
of the river
& slips beyond accidents of time & place
duration & extension
& in this momentary blindness
we hear it rise
with careful, swooping beats,
& track with our ears its vast invisible arc
& think it home
while the small things creep & feed
& become themselves the rock
they crowd beneath
& know that in some future time
the heron too may grace the thickness of the rock
with open beak & twisted spine
&
give the rock its wings
© Jesse Glass
///
