Let It Be

By Carol L. Deering

A great blue heron

landed near the cattails

at the edge of the pond.

It sat tall,

still as a chalice,

only twice in several minutes

turning its dark-plumed head.

But half a dozen blackbirds

kept harassing


jabbing        towards it,

   wishing it ill.

Slowly, it swooped its luxurious wings

   drew in its resplendent head

 trailed back its streamer-ribbon legs

rose and drifted off beyond the hill.

Categories: Issue 4, Poetry | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Let It Be

  1. Cork


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