small heron by Joanne Faries

crumpled on our stoop
like a drunk sleeping off
a rough night
ruffled, tattered
head drooped
battered wing

roused, bird limped
vast danger lurked
above yawning field, hawks soar
hobbled, it mustered energy
bound for shaded distant fence

delicate plumed head
seascape colors – azure blue
nautical white
heron wafted far off coast
plunked into energy easement
arid land, no salty breeze

wayward avian plight.
 


​
Joanne Faries, originally from the Philadelphia area, lives in Texas with her husband Ray. Published in Doorknobs & Bodypaint, Off the Coast, Orange Room Review, and Salome Magazine, she also has stories and poems in Shine Magazine, A Long Story Short, Bartleby-Snopes, and Freckles to Wrinkles.

Joanne is the film critic for the Little Paper of San Saba. word-splash-joannefaries.blogspot.com