Spaced along the shore
like chess pieces in an end game,stalking, patient, still
feelings sorted, thoughts
not meant to arise
and feed off memories.
An egret moves suddenly,
stabs at a fish in the water,
swallows it whole.
Then what you desire
(and you are always in pursuit)
folds into difference
needs recalled as pleasure.
You brought rod and reel.
Always, the scout of wind,
water’s white caps.
Past lives float upside down
in the lake swells,
and just beneath the surface,
anger glinting like a silver lure.
The sky fathers traffic,
twigs carried in beaks,
a landing dance
of plumes and clapper.
The knowing self points out
a female heron, lining
the woven nest
awaiting ritual, high
in a tall tree's chill
and the rookery's noise.
The place will be defended.
You go away.
.
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