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.

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