A shadow? Yes,
A glimpse of Easter White? I think.
Ah......The wings fully opened, spread upward
a frame in time fully frozen as the angelic, winged
beauty hovers in time and
lowers itself into the murky waters and marsh mud
that is just at the edge of my yard.
Breathing silently I observe. Then a second one
repeats this process.
The pair gazes both about them and at one another.
In an innate harmony, they communicate.
Their quest for food is fully present.
But, too, they preen - making sure their plumage
is just so, as the breezes bluster about them.
I see their necks bending to and fro as if chatting
about the events of the day,
A motion that is perfect in its synergy.
A dance.
A liturgy of being.
Both compassionate and caring and entirely present.
The next quest is of hunting for food.
Their movements so stoic, yet amorously awkward.
Feet prying up from the mud,
these spindle-like legs keeping balance and forward progression.
Angular agressions to pick the lucious morsels they seek.
Beauty in motion, purpose personified.
A pause.
They pose.
They seem to be speaking in the great quiet of this space.
Perhaps an exchange of gossip?
More grooming and more connection to their
ubiquitous envirenment.
A sudden rustle, a small panic ridden moment.
Wings spread and flap.
The slow rise from the marsh,
And they are gone -
for now,
Hopefully to return when ready to begin
all this again.
Am I speaking of Egrets
or Episcopalians?
Hmmmm,
I do wonder..........
Well, the gracefully cordial and, extravagantly though delicately, aloof surely aren't Catholics or Methodists, dahling. Great poem. Thanks as always.
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