blue heron

they stand
still in
the thin pool
of grey water,
the inlet
a distant sea,
ruffling their
soft armor,
the heron
on stick legs,
and narrowed
beaks, angled
like swords,
they look
over at me.
but we are worlds
apart, with
different cares
and worries,
on this
pink rosed morning,
our feet
submerged in
the shallow
depths of
warm louisiana
water.