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0 Comments | May 09, 2022

Heron and Then Wren

Once upon an estuary
herons flew in graceful arcs
that drew great threads
of sunlight through a sky so blue
it almost hurt the eyes.

I used to go there
long ago when afternoons
went on forever.
Then we moved to someplace
where the water
only used to be.

So now it’s wren and thrush
and while I can’t quite
call it majesty, still
there’s a simple wonder
makes it worth a moment
in the window.

There’s one—the wren—
who comes back to her nest
each spring and tidies things.
And while I do not know
if harbinger’s the best word
for a humble wren,
I nonetheless feel that it’s
something she might

rather like to be.


May 8, 2022


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