Heron
Where did it fly -
your heron?
The one on the pond by the ice cream
shop - the franchise,
not either of the good ones -
with that pretty willow dressing the
froggy water like
a bridal veil, or
the shaggy locks and beard
of some Green Man,
all wizened and kind
and full up with your
stories and lessons.
We watched it fish
with far more deftness than either of us had,
our faces all sticky,
but it vanished - so,
I thought -
But I know
someone now
all wise and kind who
grows better greens
than a Forest Sprite,
loves froggy ponds
and stories and ice cream
from, wherever, but
preferably the good places
and certainly with rainbow sprinkles,
and she'd look fine
in a bridal veil,
if she'd acquiesce
to willow shade
over her eyes,
and she and I
roll around each other
getting
our faces all sticky.
So, I think,
Grandpa,
your heron landed
in my sheets.