the deepening ground

Monday morning, as I looked out the windows of The Observatory (our family room), I saw a grey heron down in the creek. At first, I was content to simply admire him from afar. Besides, if I went outside and down to the water’s edge, I’d surely scare him off. But the lure was just too strong. Notebook in hand, I walked out into the overcast morning for a moment of reflection on the banks of Wolf Creek. Have you had any similar moments of reflection this week? If not, look for them, and then comment below!

Reflection: The Grey Heron

By Vincent H. Anastasi 2022

With measured steps
the grey heron patrols Wolf Creek
walking in the far shallows
where my feet sink.

Only the still see.

I pace behind the family room windows
trying to descry the heron
through the five or so trees
along the edge of the creek.
Three hawks sweep into view,
one trailing the others,
before they alight and dissolve
in the neighbor's pines.

They have coaxed me
from the stillness of my home
into this overcast July morning.
I descend the spiral staircase,
pull on my shoes,
and slip out the back door.
I, too, take measured steps
down the lawn to the play-fort by the creek.

I cannot find him.

                                                  Suddenly,
he stabs the water
from behind the downed tree
lying slightly aslant from the farther bank.
Successful or not, I cannot tell.
He shakes himself off,
resets his stance,
and peers over the fallen trunk.

He eyes me, askance,

fool that I am in my white t-shirt
and brown cut off shorts,
leaning against the fort, notebook in hand.
He waits,
takes a few nonchalant steps,
and then lifts off to seek other fishing holes,
leaving me to gaze upon his majestic reflection
winging its way downstream.