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

 

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