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Poems


New Neighbors

      Rock Creek Park, Washington

Squat sentinels of evening
keep watch now at the old ford,
      motionless,
            dark-hooded like bandits,

their eyes wary, alert,
lest some foolish fish try
      trespassing
            in the bright of afternoon.

They are the black-crowned
night heron,
      our new, still neighbors in the park.
            Some stand gray and silent

on rocks in the rushing water,
some peer down from flood-strewn logs,
      some perch shyly,
            half-hidden in the trees.

All are watching,
all patient for the sun's descent,
      after which their work begins
            in earnest.


June, 2001


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