The Great Blue Heron

Near grooves of a riverbed,
you make yourself comfortable
against life’s flowing current.

But as the heron comes along,
a wise lesson unfolds
underneath its wings.

Squatting onto your sandal footprints,
the bird asks you to follow in the steps
of your own muddy path.

Glancing at the trailhead most traveled,
you notice its texture has become—
rugged and people pleasing

and there is a desire to pivot;
growth stems from
divergent ideas all in all.

So you stand up
with fish below admiring your stature;
the wetland messenger departs to noon.

Setting out for dusk;
tree silhouettes cool papyrus skin
and you never turn back again.

Moving On

I’ll pick up the embers
of where I left off
when I was without you.

My old, easygoing self
wants back the days,
walking around—
having nothing but
dust and perky sparks
surround me.

Because there’s joy
in the moments
nobody can steal
your heart’s fire.

The sky is always anew
each day I push through,
fulfilling my own promises;
no indigestion over
roundabouts of
expectations or accusations.

My head lives stabilized
and the ground feels good
every time I survive.