Patricia L. Goodman, Loss

Patricia L. Goodman

Great white egret
at the pond this morning
as I approach
in rain,
his elegance stark
against rustic reeds.

I need him
to stay,
to light my dark corners,
but sure
as the sodden skies,
wide wings open,
lift him across water.

Long neck curved,
legs trailing,
slow, strong wing beats
propel him away,
as he ghosts
into heavy, grey sky.

Author’s Comment: “Loss” was written during a rainy walk on my farm in the midst of intense grief after the suicide of my husband. My mood was as dark as the weather. I was thrilled to see that egret, an unusual visitor to the farm, but he didn’t stay long enough to cheer me.

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