GREAT BLUE HERON
Alone he flew like some great craft
Crossing through my sky,
A sight I'd never seen before...
Not with my own eye.
I was carrying to my woods
The limbs of lilacs dead,
When he graced me, coming swift,
Flying past above my head.
Straight he flew as though some line
Heavenly were drawn;
Delight he dropped into my heart
Before the sight was gone.
Jo Anzalone 2004