from No better place than here

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

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