looked up from my desk just as a black-crowned night heron was flying along the bay shore outside my window. what could I do but write these poems:
light of the falling evening rising from the bay a lone night heron appears his wings make silence even among shrieking gulls *** last light blazes up red over the darkening bay a lone night heron let blackness fall stars blossom it's his wings create the sky *** unlike the evening red blazing up in last pride a lone night heron flies silent over the bay seeming too dark to be seen *** with no way to turn back the fall of evening a lone night heron already himself darkness mystery flies into it *** bay and sky ablaze against the coming blackness a lone night heron flies unhurried unconcerned everything changes with him
Beyond Breakers 