Remember, says my friend, to look
for beauty every day. And immediately
I think of the blue heron I saw this afternoon
as it flew upriver, its elegant neck tucked
into its body in flight, its deep, slow wing beats
guiding it through the curves of the wide canyon.
In my chest, I felt it, the rising urge to fly,
the pulsing, the thrill of blue heron.
In that instant, I did not wonder
if a moment of beauty is enough
to sustain us through difficult times.
I knew only that I had to remind my eyes
to watch the highway instead of following
the great blue weight as it wove
through the empty cottonwood tops,
its silhouette charged with improbable grace,
its long legs dangling behind,
a reminder we all must land sometime.