"The Watcher of Still Waters"
In the heart of the wild, where the whispering trees
Meet the mirrored hush of silent seas,
Stood the Great Blue Heron, alone yet whole —
A sentinel bird with an ancient soul.
It did not rush, it did not stray,
Just watched the water drift away.
Its feet in stillness, its gaze profound,
A prayer made flesh without a sound.
They say the Heron knows the flow
Of every grief we do not show.
Its shadow rests where ripples cease,
A keeper of forgotten peace.
Once, a child lost in pain and fear
Came wandering to the waters near.
She wept her story to the skies,
And saw the stillness in Heron's eyes.
“Be still,” it seemed to softly speak,
“For healing waits in what you seek.
Not all that’s broken needs to mend,
Some things just shift, then learn to bend.”
Years passed like wind through autumn trees.
The girl grew roots, the Heron — wings.
But every fall, she’d seek the shore,
To bow her soul and weep no more.
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