there was a heron in the sky when i crossed the street this morning. ive never seen a heron so far from water, so far from home. i watched it gently, despite the people walking. i dont always break the unspoken in this manner, and although ive been more often lately, it still is not consistent, and so feels notable in this instance. of course there you were when you werent and lasting considerably though considering what is normal to me this was not notable.
but a heron was flying when i got off the bus today.

i felt as rested as ten with completed checks yet really i was running on a miracle three with more boxes than i could carry with my hurting wrist and hurting knees -

dear god,
will you hold me so softly with mercy in your palms,
will you tell me so delicately what you mean when you speak,
will you set me so lovingly to the floor when you must let me down,
for there will come the time for me to die.

at six fifty pm they turn off all the lights. and down the block sitting at the stop, at last a moment to catch up, and that is when i saw the second one that day.

dear heron,
will you fly again so starkly with your ever fervent beauty,
will you seek me out so blatantly though subtle as you have been guided,
will you return so frequently further, but not so much you disappear,
for i would love a heron to fly when my time has come to pass.

holding you feels like an inevitable. intangible yet legible. i dont check the clock when im waiting for the bus. it will arrive when it does and when it does i will get on it.

i saw two herons on tower street today.