PRIMORDIAL BLESSING
by William Thomas
In the fall of my 76th year,
Compelled by stirrings
Best obeyed
Without question
Protestations
Or words
I draw on ankle-boots
Zip my coat snugly
And walk a stiff half-mile
Through forest audience
To storm-scuffed road’s end
Before the brief light wanes
Atop a well-trodden path
I pause…
Glimpse
Down through arched black branches –
Distant sunspangled headland
The gray welcoming sea
Sudden as two lifetimes
Arranging this moment
To converge
Through that proscenium frame
A heron glides, left to right
On silent stiffened wings
“Perfect!” I exclaim
In benediction
And thanksgiving
So many lessons
If we heed
Their call