The Great Blue Heron

"HERON" by Merissa Gilbert Garrison

The Great Blue Heron


Against the delicate
dawn of a cold day,
the heron lifts
her head elegantly,
and points her beak
to the gray sky, as she
swallows a minnow -
silver, cold, and
shiny as a mirror.


Standing constant
and unwavering
in the icy mire,
she blinks back
dully against a
memory of days.


Suddenly,
she raises her voice
in a self-conscious
testimonial – a raucous,
guttural croak
that echoes over
the pond and
reverberates through
the exploded cattails,
and descends into
the dark muskrat lodge,
teeming with half-
frozen vegetation.


Then methodically,
she takes off from the
ice-edged pond and,
like a Gregorian chant,
she rises slowly
into the air.


Flying full winged
and ancient – she
rows over the tops
of the Scots pines,
brushing the night’s
snow from the tips
of their branches
into the wintry air,
where it glistens –
thousands of
sparkling crystals
shining in the
morning light of
the New Year.

THE LONGING

Artwork created by Merissa Garrison

THE LONGING


I was nearly asleep when the earth cast its
shadow on the winter white moon.


I could feel the past move over my shoulder
in a chill wind brought forth from the mirror.


“Enjoy Yourself!” the past rang out from a little
ancient bell that sits in a land of wings and lost poetry.


“Enjoy Yourself!” the past pleaded with me, as I slept
with the poets of antiquity biting at my heels and heart.


Once, my mother asked me to find her some moon roses
when she wasn’t feeling beautiful anymore.


“Enjoy Yourself!” That same bell had rung out to my mother
as she had graciously smiled a “company smile” at all of them.


“Enjoy Yourself!” It had pleaded with her, as she sat and watched
all the other women ask my father to dance with them.


And now that the moon has moved in beside me, and the poets
have given up the fight, I am at peace with all of this.


Anyway, I cannot think of it anymore…my mother’s New Year
spent in longing - for all those shining days along the river.