Oh happy tree whose branches hold
The heron where she tarries
Awhile.
Her curved neck, her beak and legs
Concealed by swaying
Limbs.
She bobs her back where feathers neatly tucked
Are pinned to her sides,
Bending in time with bouncing boughs.
Then:
Upon a breath of gladdening wind she opens her wings
And flies!
Comments welcome . . .