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.