Heron

Can’t believe the heron landing on our house long arrow beak and doubling height of his unfurled neck bones opening in my spine or last night the ash a scaffold for the moon – snowball caught in a web or this morning spider lines guyed to the tree hanging out to weigh a soggy sun or the heron’s pendulous flop on a too-small-tree a would-be-snake sun-streaked reaching until we’re both swallowing the blunt ends of summer.