By
Darlene Torday
Bitter cold air blowing from the west
Sends a chill up my back
Making my bones ache
Until surprised, I see the heron
Rising from the pond
Filled to over flowing from spring rains
Its huge wings flapping
It rises into the air
And soars into the sky
Its beak and feet no longer visible
I watch until it is only a speck in the sky
Tomorrow I think
Tomorrow, if I am lucky it will return
And once again, I will watch
While the heron fishes in my pond
Eating the fish I've grown through the winter
Giving me a wonderful memory
Of the heron eating breakfast in my pond
4/4/02 ©D Torday Ohio USA
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