The Heron by Bracha K. Sharp

We go back to the pond
And still he is there,

Standing on the jagged stones
Surrounding the edge of the water,

As if he were waiting for us, poised
Tall and still and supple.

Though to see his clear gaze,
Scanning the pond, I know

He waits now for the beguiling fish,
Alert to sounds we can only strain to

Hear.
But when I draw near,

The small head turns rapidly,
The body stiffens, as if on a wire,

His feathers ruffle uneasily
At this intrusion.

And in a graceful arc,
He flies, carrying the wind,

As everyone gazes
At the spot he had been grounded to,

Only moments before,
And silence fills the air.

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Bracha K. Sharp’s education in English Literature and Psychology informs her writing in poetry, as well as a series of children's books, on which she is currently working. She has been published in or has poetry forthcoming in the American Poetry Review, The Avocet Journal, the Birmingham Arts Journal, and Sky Island Journal, among others. You can find out more about her writing by visiting: www.brachaksharp.com