Surprise, surprise, again
surprise I see an unknown
truth. As the fish rise to
fallen mayflies, and the sun
warms the surface of the
Susquehanna, a cormorant
lunges up from the bottom
and takes to sky in flight,
the carp across the fetch
roll and roll and roll again.
Yet, in a loop, one pass then
two an oddity awakens me at
once. Slow, long, white flapping
wings beat the air. Riding,then
gliding, then roosting in one tree;
nine white heron make themselves
known above the quarry. A flock
so new to my eyes I had to Google
for its truth. What grace came in
at rise of day with herons in a siege
take to the branches just above
the warming and hazy banks of
our river. All of our’s river. Grace.
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