alabaster plumes balance above
narrow ebony legs below:
harmony in the pond’s shallows.
pure and strong, she is
Mother Egret wading
showy, snowy in a black pool.  

the ancients and astronomers
bred discourtesy
when no heavenly constellation
was chosen for her –
she is both star and syncopation,
a white light scarcely swaying
in June’s stillness.  

her feathers tether
the physical and the spiritual,
water and air,
bird and brethren and believer.

if only i could join her Congregation.