Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Hidden and Unhidden

On a Walk Through Great Meadows

This avenue we walk down
made of cattails and rushes
hides city-like energy
filled with chatter and splash
splitter and crash
wing flurry and urgency
and as if flung from a catapult
little black birds
bolt up from the grass
and dive down beneath it
on mysterious bird-y errands.

There’s a hurrying in the air
and in among the grass
to hold onto the light
before the darkness falls,
a sense of settling for the evening,
of placing oneself perfectly
among just the right loved ones and
eating one more juicy insect and
crunching it up quickly, or
weaving one more green-y tendril
into a softly swaying nest or maybe
- well –
maybe this is how it is
all day.

A heron stands alone
unruffled and unbothered
by all the hurry and fuss 
going on all around it and
standing quietly one-legged
(doing what herons do)
it moves super slowly
and without any turmoil,
deep in its serenity
waiting quietly for sustenance,
for the marsh gods
to bring it nourishment,
just quietly watching the world
do its thing.

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