Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Green heron




I'm not as sold
on you
as I am
on your cousin

You have little
in the way
of her arabesque
angles

and know nothing
of the slow, melodious way
she takes umbrage,
packing up the long legs,
concert hall wings
crook neck 

into an island
she heaves out
and then skyward

raising the calm
of her own private ocean

feet far behind
like a lover's old token

until dropping anchor,
en pointe and alone.


Lucky,
you don't seem to mind
the comparison,
too busy listening
to the indiscreet
secrets
of minnows

feet tucked in slime
eyes grim and primordial

on the shoal of a river

the blue guy
let slide.


6 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

Good stuff. Really like the "Indiscreet secrets of minnows." we see quite a few green herons around here

Sarah Hina said...

Thanks, Charles. I didn't notice them so much until lately. I'm always on the lookout for their blue brethren, though.

goatman said...

How green? I have always wondered.
Nice words of your poetry.

Sarah Hina said...

Hi goatman, you're right. They're not as green as their name would indicate.

Thanks for coming by.

the walking man said...

I can live better by not being pretty as long as I know I will eat well, thank you very much. bwahahaha

Sarah Hina said...

I want to be pretty AND eat well.