[2023-08-11] Great blue heron
This morning on our walk, Chris and I saw a Great Blue Heron. It wasn't our first time seeing this beautiful creature, but it was the first time it was so close that I could get a decent photo of it with my cell phone. As lovely as it was to see the heron wading in the water, just a few feet from the bridge where we pause each day to survey the pond, it was even more breathtaking to see it take flight, slowly flapping its immense wings as it glided up the stream.
This afternoon, I finished a puzzle called Popular Backyard Wild Birds of North America. It included many birds that I've had the pleasure of seeing in person: the Black-Capped Chickadee, the Northern Cardinal, the Blue Jay, the American Goldfinch and the Downy Woodpecker.
Tonight, I found the poem "Great Blue Heron." Poet T. Alan Broughton describes the heron as "wise as he was or ever will be." And he concludes his poem with the gentle words "and the evening folds itself around me."
What exquisite words and imagery to match my mood: I am at peace.
Great Blue Heron
by T. Alan Broughton
I drive past him each day in the swamp where he stands
on one leg, hunched as if dreaming of his own form
the surface reflects. Often I nearly forget to turn left,
buy fish and wine, be home in time to cook and chill.
Today the bird stays with me, as if I am moving through
the heron’s dream to share his sky or water—places
he will rise into on slow flapping wings or where
his long bill darts to catch unwary frogs. I’ve seen
his slate blue feathers lift him as dangling legs
fold back, I’ve seen him fly through the dying sun
and out again, entering night, entering my own sleep.
I only know this bird by a name we’ve wrapped him in,
and when I stand on my porch, fish in the broiler,
wine glass sweating against my palm, glint of sailboats
tacking home on dusky water, I try to imagine him
slowly descending to his nest, wise as he was
or ever will be, filling each moment with that moment’s
act or silence, and the evening folds itself around me.
