guardian of field and pond

Another summer month by the sea – the time I look forward to all year – comes to a close.  It has become the time when poems flow from land, ocean, river and breeze; from bird, flower, field and trees. And so I close my time here with yet another great blue heron sketch – not only has this majestic bird captured my imagination and my time; this summer, he also got captured by camera, mine.

Regal, he perches some forty feet up
steely blue outline sharp as a gargoyle

atop the lush green lollipop of tree
his vantage point of field and pond
territory watched with guarded eye;

he turns now this way, then that, scans
for intruders to his singular séance
with spirits. Surely

he listens to what they say
as still and profiled beak to tail
his body speaks vigilant care

to his task; alert and aware,
he takes his silent leave
from leafy post as we move in

our hundred feet too close for him
though still too distant for me!


sunday morning, 10 a.m.

Sitting on a large flat rock
that overhangs pond water
an invitation to perch,
plunge, ponder how grounded

I feel, butt to stone, feet
before me solid at the edge
of still water ruffled
by occasional breeze riffling

chirped morning trills, cheeps
and distant crowing of awake.
A stillness hangs in the warmth,
air barely astir tho abuzz with bee,

fly, hornet and gnat. I walked
through spider thread, ranging hens,
still settling-down honeybees
re-trusting their hive post-black-bear.

Calm settles through me,
at one with air, at peace.
Each hour I let go more; each
left I honor and release.