A young blue heron glides by in the shadowy light of the pre-dawn morning (juvenile Little Blues are white feathered initially) . Like a whisper in the wind its silent flight brings peace and tranquility to my mind. Words begin to repeat in my mind. My thoughts ponder the meaning. I know that still small voice in my ear so when I return to the house I ask the editor for a yellow pad and begin to write the prose as best I can recall.

The Broward seems empty save for a few visitors this week. I glance out the window as a flash of pink disappears in the marsh grass. Grabbing the doohickey, I start up the dock only to stop and wait as two Roseate Spoonbills emerge in the channel. Their sweeping feeding motions are interrupted by a Snowy Egret as it looks for minnow stirred up by the spoonbills. I creep closer to no avail. The spoonbills spot me and after a brief discussion take wing. But not before I push the doohickey. The Snowy also takes flight and swoops by a Great Egret on a neighbor’s crumbling old dock.

I am not a practicing poet but share this prose with you with captions below. Most of the rhymes I remember are from my Plebe summer days at the Naval Academy (some forty plus years ago) while marching along to and from various formations and events. Most of them could not be repeated in today’s “politically correct” world. Blessings

Reflections on Broward is now "Mountain Musings"

Shadow of the morning..