Great Blue Heron

They call you blue.  I say you are rather gray.  The mood you put me in when standing at the edge of the pond to fish out the koi.  Brilliant orange harpooned on the beak.  They say a koi can live for fifty years.

Now I watch heron on the beach, the silly legs straggling along the sand, or the patient one roosting in the tree over the lagoon.  There is a white heron on the lake today. Hard to forget the gray.

predator and prey

leave mark on gray windy sky

beauty in color
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the oldest known koi was Hanako, who lived for 226 years

dVerse prompt for haibun in gray
  

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Great Blue Heron

Letterpress

My goal this summer is to do a chapbook of a hiking trip to Cathedral Park in Canada.  I will be doing it in letterpress so brevity will be of great concern.  It will be about twelve pages on quality paper, hand sewn binding and a mix of haiku and other short forms.  Not sure of the print types that will be available to me yet.  Frank at dVerse has asked us to consider brevity so I am starting my project.  Each poem would be on its own page.

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top of Stone City

glacier carved granite garden

alpine fir and larch

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white cloud

castes shadow below

on mountain lake

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distant mountains

stretch 

across horizon

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kwash kwash kwash

my steps grind the stones

of Stone City

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Letterpress

White Pelican

The first white pelican I saw was in Florida.  My husband and I were driving past a pond and there it was resting on the water.  I shout white pelican, white pelican.  (We were sometimes birders.). Go around the block.  He won’t do it.  He keeps going.  There is only so much pain I can wear on my face.  I kept it there for days.

Now in Texas he says – did I tell you there were white pelicans on the lake yesterday?  White pelican, white pelican.  We walk to the lake seeing them from a distance.  We keep walking to the shore and there they are, about a hundred more.

find white pelican

migration flight in winter

wipes the pain away

White Pelican

Moonlight Path

There was a time I walked away from a disagreeable circumstance. I walked into a cold night, dressed for winter with boots on, leather jacket, long hair covered with a hat.

Not sure of the way home, I only knew that north would take me to the main road and then west would take me home. I walked miles under an unnamed moon.

I remember the crisp air, blue of the snow, ice crunching under my boots and how the light fell against the snowbound trees. I felt lost while finding my way home.

Blue freeze of winter

Beauty penetrates the night

Leads a path to home

Moonlight Path