THE HERON

From the train window, I gaze,

at the stretch

where fields get wider

and houses sparser,

and at that

silhouette on the slope by the ditch,

perfect curves,

a living hieroglyph.

I regularly pass and gaze

and in my gaze I catch

these outlines…eternity?

A word so easy to pronounce,

so teasing and restful…

I pass and gaze and plunge

into this sudden permanence,

this regular moment of the grass,

while being

swarmed away.