There is a Heron Who Visits the Field
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

There is a heron who visits the field
where the Clydesdales graze.
They lift their heads to watch it drift

down from the sky, folding its prehistoric wings
as it lands. The Clydesdales give her a nod,
their muscles twitching, like ripples in a pond,

and then they go back to grazing the wet grass,
and the heron stands on one leg for hours at a time,
its neck curled into its shoulders, its eyes closed,
listening to the day.