the heron

The water sifts through it,

That wild beak laid open

For fish in the hollows;

One of them rests in dark water

Beneath his feet.

I wake in my unease and

Envy his patience, his

Absence of forethought at night,

The time where I lie awake,

The least of my thoughts great in my mind.

I lie down again, and

He makes no sound;

The fish go calmly by.