Heron Medicine                                                                                                Sun, 3rd August, 2014

Paddling along on glistening lake,
Serene on surface of waking dream,
I spy the Great Blue Heron, one with water and reed,
Noiseless and patient as sunshine and cumulus cloud.

Gazing with stopped breath at gray-blue majesty,
I, too, gave in to silent stillness, paddle suspended,
Keen eye fixed on keen eye—who was watching whom?
Watching, waiting, drinking in beauty to nourish the soul.

Could this stately creature be the me I long to become,
Or perhaps the one I was hatched to be,
Only at this moment I am not yet fledged—
No noble, ebony plume yet gracing my head.

I yield to this still point, waiting for messages.
With feet on earth, legs in water, head in air,
Simple existence becomes a prayer to whatever gods
Whose job it is to bind up the fragments of existence.

What animal instinct will take hold next?
To flee this floating stranger, launching to flight
On massive wings, beating slowly, powerfully, silently,
Elegant neck folding just so on the way to a quieter spot.

Or to stand still, striking, spearing and swallowing fear,
Regal and unruffled in lazy summer sun.
Content in the noiseless knowing that,
For this one moment, he and I are both perfect and beautiful.