without blood, struggle or sound

Marsh Abattoir

The heron waits - - -

in first person,

turning from blue to deep violet
in reflection

beneath a sky insinuating
orange peel orange and pink flamingo pink,

- - - for the kill,

without blood, struggle or sound,

patiently,
beneath an iridescent paintbrush of plumage,

conspicuously inconspicuous and conspiring
in whispering not even the flutter of a feather
to a listening wind intent on rumor and innuendo,

changing shade, changing shape,
shadows shifting, cloak and dagger,
in the tired light as it lies down with dusk,
last, low squinting shafts aglow and illuminating
a frenzy of winged insects, frenetic above the water,
the only movement evidenced in this staged frame,

a portrait without premeditation,
a watercolor without motive,
a still-life more perfect than any murder, any prayer

and without a God to pass judgment
here in this marsh abattoir.

photo by arthur morris