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July 11
244/365

Crossing

Because the great blue heron hunches
in its old winter coat of shoulders
on the ferry dock piling,
wind out of the northwest riffling and fraying its feathers;
because seasons hold me
like green explanations for our weather
that once meant everything,
I can’t explain my longing for home.

Crossing

Because the great blue heron hunches
in its old winter coat of shoulders
on the ferry dock piling,
wind out of the northwest riffling and fraying its feathers;
because seasons hold me
like green explanations for our weather
that once meant everything,
I can’t explain my longing for home.

Carolyne Wright

Seattle

 
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