poetry
I had never seen a real heron when I wrote this poem. I had a completely different image in mind, of a story I was told that just happened to occur near a lake. I have no idea where this poem came from; all I know is that my English teacher commented that it was "a beautiful poem", which gave me a lot of confidence in myself.
Lake wind (1991)
As I glance out over the mighty lake,
I see a heron, obeying its instincts,
floating on the cool breeze that blows hard against the long grasses,
and then dropping, as if in slow motion, down down...
the mighty bird hits the water, but he does not stop,
for he knows that if he is not quick enough,
the lake will swallow him, as a giant crocodile should.
But the heron knows more than the reptile ever will;
for he is the everlasting bird, that which cannot be gone.
And afterwards, the mighty heron floats high on the brisk lake wind.