What diligence, what slow
studied pace the great egret
keeps, fishing the same kink
in the shoreline of the creek.
His eye telescopic,
his yellow beak a sudden
electric spear. He endures
the wind teasing him,
rippling his glassy mirror.
He does not give up when the tide
slips in deeper and deeper. He finds
a sandbar. He's even aware that
I study him. Eventually
he will escape me, wading back
into the muddy fingers of the cove
where the land level is higher - where
he can hold his solitude
like air pockets under his wings.
(c) Copyright 2001. The Christian Science Monitor