Impatient Child

March wind rushes April in like an impatient child-IMG_4406.JPG

even the herons are waiting.

Cold walk along bridge pipe edges full of rust

rock graffiti carved thick and heavy.

Below wind whistles and spins around heron-toed mud

Water lapping between as specks of glass and coal dust settle.  Tiny leaves slither and stick then release in the spin of the wind.

In the fold of the river’s arms is an urgent cIMG_4407.JPGhill.

Tossed cigarette butts and shore trash lie where regret and misery linger, caught in the mud of winter.

Huddling under a trestle while heavy drops linger and tease letters on our page.

Air smells thick of iron salts and red clay.

We look for the herons or a glint of hope in the egrets eye

as he spots a silver-flicker flash and dives into the foamy maze.

Thoughts ease as we settle and listen to April trudging in on the

back  of distant cars.

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6 thoughts on “Impatient Child

  1. Such contrast in this–I visualize the beauty of the heron and imagine the shoreline–pristine, pure–but then reality smacks me. Right now I’m able to look out my window at ducks, egrets and their babies that come and go on the water hazard outside. And in reality, the wind is crazy today. I’m in Coachella Valley where the big music festival is going on and whipping up all the attendees.

    Liked by 1 person

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