Teacher
Standing by the creek,
grateful that for a time
it is just me and the
soft snow floating alone,
the heron teaches me again
to expect from the ordinary
moment a flash of
breathtaking joy.
Thrusts of air break over
the creek beside me as I walk
from this place I come to
everyday, thinking I am alone.
Turning, it soars at eye-level,
through the sentinels
of trees from downstream, where
I just looked, but did not see.
CKS
