People watching/ me watching/ bird watching. A stilled vision by the river flowing, flowing, flowing sound into my ears.

Continuing to the next set of birds or returning to the last set of birds or staying, still. Each time as a blinking statue, feeling a deep connection to the scene and yet each heron the same as the previous and the next. Each egret the same as the previous and the next.

Stretching ahead, stretching behind, wherever I am I am here: gently blowing feathers and time passing; shallow rushing water.

Big birds-- herons-- the Great Blue in the shallow blue. Egrets with yellow beaks and black feet-- the smaller ones have black beaks and yellow feet, galoshes, they're like * splosh, splosh, splosh * confidently through the fiercely-flowing puddle. These are my favorite.

The Great Blue stretches his neck long from time to time, calligraphy tattooed along the throat, graceful; then shrinks into a new bird, a gruff, grumpy grandpa. Where has the Great gone? Long feathers sway in the breeze like a stringy beard.

He waits; I wait.