Buzzflash
del.icio.us
Digg
Facebook
Mixx it!
Reddit
No matter the hour
of night or day,
she's there--always
at one shaded bank
of the pond
or the other.
Always alone.
Once, it almost frightened me--
she was in the center,
not a ripple on the lake,
not her mate,
nor another wading bird in sight--
so regal and pure, and unharmed,
so unafraid--it seemed
of solitude,
so sure.
Imagine, desire gone,
no longer essential.
Not touch, perhaps one luxury--
memory--to sustain her.
And then as night falls
so brilliant and still in that darkness,
a splash of white.
Subscribe Now!
The only way to read this article and the full contents of each week's issue of The Nation online is by subscribing to the magazine. Subscribe now and read this article -- and every article published since for the past five years -- right now.
There's no obligation -- try The Nation for four weeks free.
- Get The Nation at home (and online!) for 75 cents a week!
- If you like this article, consider making a donation to The Nation.
RSS