The Last of This September

This morning by the riverI saw a Great Blue Heron.Holding my breathI stood still to this sightbearing witness to the Heron’s great flight.As tips of its wingswere grazing the surfaceof fog-ridden rivers aheadI awed at the dropsclinging heavy to the websof hundreds of thousands of spiders.To let go of another summer.Heart grateful for these legs,Continue reading “The Last of This September”