By the River

I saw the seasons change.

As a Great Blue Heron stalked its prey, I laid

beneath a maple’s turning leaves

resting in the shade.

The clouds came in so quietly.

Nature dimmed the light to a grey glow

as a mother tucking in her sleepy child

then stealing away on tiptoe.

I am not depressed but hushed

slowly rocking in nature’s cradle.

The seasons shifted as I Iaid

beneath the Big Leaf Maple.

I knew it was coming

as the leaves grew weathered and frail.

But it happened so quickly and yet

so subtle, like a timeworn veil,

it caught me by surprise.

I thought I would miss the summer sun

the cool, lazy current of the river

before the late salmon run.

But that light is gone.

Yet all I felt was magic, not grief or dismay,

as the sun was covered by an otherworldy mist,

as Summer and the Great Blue Heron flew away.

One thought on “By the River

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