Reflection

Wading   in  the shallows     of America

                 on a fall day   the sun bright   and trying 

                                 in the big empty 

                                                      up there   forcheer         

        the heron freezes

                                                          studying    

      his reflection    

                                    watching for the flicker

             below his growing doubt     that means fish

   But the creek is thin   filled in when

                             rains brought the mud down  from the banks

the water has an oily sheen     and this year   silence hangs over the scene

       the desertion   of insects and frogs     To this stream   the heron had

     always returned     but now    his hunger bids him     fly    

          in a swiftrush of wings    he’sair-borne      growing smaller

   until all that is left   is a blue figure   in the faded grass 

          at memory’sedge   mirage

time’s arrow bent     and turned back    the shrunken creek

  recovers itsrush      thestream clears   insectshum   the fish swim

         into abundanceagain      as the blue elegance of theheron

riding theslipstream    ofreality’s departure

glides down from the past       and     wings folded like origami

is planted back in the reeds     more ours now    than nature’s

   hybrid made   ofletters   flesh and wish    poised to strike   

focused     on its reflection    shuddering in 

        a sudden wind on thewater’s

back    a tearing noise  

    the image is dashed

          broken       as hisneck

        unfurls    he strikes

raises his head

          beak clamped

        on an agony of silver–

       what          like mercury

                            can’t be held      or helped

    and    swallowed       is poison.