Egret Crossing A Pond

By John I. Blair

As I pass this receding shore
A curl of mud links pond to land,
Mint-scented flowers shed their seed,
The dusty grasses dance and bend
Beneath a breath of summer wind.

And the whitest egret ever seen
Unfurls its wings and sails, drifts, glides
Cleanly to the other side,
There folding back to a silent pose,
Aching beauty with fatal intent.

©2005 John I. Blair