Two snowy egrets are a slash of beauty
in the heart of the lake in the heart of the glen.
They step—step--step, eyes nailing the depths.
Two white birds paint wavering echoes in the water.
Sun-turned morning glories sing back their glow,
swinging open to the potential of day on the shore.
Somewhere close, a little girl feels their beauty so
hard,
she aches for something beyond language, wider than oxygen.
Egrets flex and extend the machinery of their legs,
prying the shallows for life that brings them life:
the fish, the frogs. The lake in the glen chimes with
flowers
and birds and captures the slow faces of clouds.
The little girl inhales the breath of lake, plants, sun.
She lives in the body of an old woman.
Mud strokes her bare feet, cattails sway beneath
dragonflies.
If only she could dwell inside this magic all the time.
For a few moments, the entire world rests
in perfect balance between itself and a forgotten child.
For a few moments, a melancholy girl with a heart too broken
to hold all her love inside becomes a white egret, asking
for
nothing more than this wet moment in this very place.
In wonder, she spreads wide her wings.
Jennifer Pratt-Walter, ⓒ 2024
