Art by Tammy Vitale
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Warm night with a peaceful mist
the frogs sung and the cicadas hissed
The lake reflected the very first light
of the sun peeking from underneath the night
Twas only then I saw her sleek form
moving slightly toward the brand new morn
A Heron of blue, she turned to face
and grant a wish to the human race
I scrambled to think of something grand
like an end to the war that plagued this land
But before I realized what I had done
the wish was granted and up rose the sun
She spread her wings and lifted into the sky
and flew till she was only a speck to my eyes
I didn't know then what would come of my thoughts
But the war was not over, it's still being fought
That very next night, I rocked in my chair
and looked out to the lake hoping she would be there
The night was warm with a peaceful mist...
and I knew I had gotten exactly what I had wished
Cynthia
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Warm night with a peaceful mist
the frogs sung and the cicadas hissed
The lake reflected the very first light
of the sun peeking from underneath the night
Twas only then I saw her sleek form
moving slightly toward the brand new morn
A Heron of blue, she turned to face
and grant a wish to the human race
I scrambled to think of something grand
like an end to the war that plagued this land
But before I realized what I had done
the wish was granted and up rose the sun
She spread her wings and lifted into the sky
and flew till she was only a speck to my eyes
I didn't know then what would come of my thoughts
But the war was not over, it's still being fought
That very next night, I rocked in my chair
and looked out to the lake hoping she would be there
The night was warm with a peaceful mist...
and I knew I had gotten exactly what I had wished
Imagine her in Italy now - cause that's where she lives. =]
all those fancy feathers, she looks far too dressed up to be knee-deep in the water, fishing like that....
spring cleaning
found a trifling blue heron
nestled in the bell tower
of uncommon good looks was he
sleeping through silver winter
'neath quilts of hay and twigs,
hidden from the bitter wind's breath
like a needle in a haystack.
he awoke to crocus perfume
and the chattering of church mouse.
prominent, pretty heron stands,
wings of crystallized bone
crossed behind its back.
found patiently waiting
for feathers to fan into flutter.
the intruder was startled by footstep on stair,
and after spring cleaning
blue heron sought another layer.
after spring cleaning
the bell tower is vacant of crib, of nest,
left only are the final notes
of an old music box.
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