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.