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.