Great Blue

Great blue
great blue floating
great blue floating over an onyx lake;
his twin winging back
as he glides,
gently lighting on a solitary branch.

How can I breathe in the presence of such majesty?

Solitary branch
solitary branch bows
solitary branch bows graciously
to receive its suitor,
arching over the still, smooth water,
illumined by a ray of morning sun.

Why are my hands empty as the offertory plays?

Morning sun
morning sun streaming
morning sun streaming through the woods
casting gold dust
upon the surface of silent, dark water;
great blue poised, still as a solitary fisherman.

Is this what it means to be “of the world?”

Solitary fisherman
solitary fisherman waits
solitary fisherman waits for a ripple,
a flop, a splash, a sploosh;
a breeze rustles his feathers
as cautious steps draw me closer, his twin vanishes.

What drives the hunter deeper into the woods?

Twin vanishes
twin vanishes in an instant
twin vanishes in an instant as wings unfurl,
branch sways as he lifts into the air
skimming the surface, casting a wary eye
as he draws parallel to me.

I turn
I turn and watch
I turn and watch as each wing stroke
separates us,
until he vanishes over the treetops
in search of other sanctuary.