At the stones, it occurred to me, that, I could just keep walking, without preparing flask, or cardigan or the right shoes, or thought for returning.
Disconnected. Thinking.
Triggered annoyance from the repetition of the act of the cat and the woman’s words
Walking and walking, over drying mud and water.
In the wood.
Until I look up and there it is, the magnificent creature. Balancing on long thin legs, poised to leave.
We look at each other for a long while. It, finding its place, in the exact present moment. Ony being here and now. A sign. Finally, I connect to something other than the words in my head. Hovering between awe and rising joy, stepping forward, only to see the wide winged heron bend, crane its neck then fly above the water, through the trees, passing the sun.
All the sounds of the world are here, water flowing, trees creaking, the earth turning facing its ground to the sun, damp rising, warmth creeping, shadows stretching, the flapping of the heron’s wings as it takes flight to leave.
Pure nature, calming my annoyed soul. Hunger rising.
On exiting the wood, warmth rests on my arm and cheek. It is as if the bird never existed, but for the feeling of joy lifted my heart.
tracey doxey 