The Great Blue Heron at Tabor Retreat House - poem

National Catholic Reporter, April 16, 1999 by Leo Luke Marcello

   At the edge of the cypress swamp, I spot
   a large shape too big to be a turtle
   but large enough to be the head of an
   alligator, resting, waiting to spring.

   I wait with it. Perhaps it's a dead tree.
   It does not move, yet I know that it lives.
   Then at last I see a flicker. A snake?
   But no. The entire oval shape stands up,
   an enormous bird stretching its long neck.
   On long legs, it stands, fixed in the water.
   A pelican I guess, until I see
   the long, slender, delicate golden beak.

   The great bird stretches and begins to move.
   It hunches its back up like a camel.
   Then it casts the thin, brontosaural neck
   like a living branch among the tree trunks.

   The gray trees are stained black at water's edge,
   evidence of the heavy rains this week.
   Tiny seed pearl capsules wait on a bush
   which next week will break into sunlit fire.
   A squirrel quivers some branches. A bird coos.
   Everything else is still except the wind.

   From time to time, the heron makes a move.
   It seems infinitely patient, a monk
   in contemplation of what lies beneath
   the motionless surface of the water.
   It is in reality stalking prey,
   yet it moves with such slow grace it seems stone.
   I yearn to see it take flight overhead,
   but it stands still, waiting, perfectly still.

Leo Luke Marcello Lake Charles, La.