improbably long-legged, elegant, not moving, quite, quite still.
I watched and watched, despite the cold. I felt no cold. Natural world.
It was a heron, at ease with itself. An encounter with beauty.
Another time, on the same river, near the same spot, I saw a kingfisher,
exotic in a niche in vaulting on the crumbling wall of a Beechinged bridge.
Blue chroma vital in contrast to the brickwork, passion against faded glory,
but beauty is not the preserve of nature because we are nature, too.
Your photo, portrait in green and blue, captured grain of time, reveals
in pixels the truth your anxiety conceals: that you are beauty.
You are its presence, its essence. Elliptical eye above a subtle smile
that speaks of truth. Of love. You are my kingfisher, you are my heron.