Rain cleared the beach
where I’m walking off the worry
while he naps.
On this in-between day
sudden gusts shake the quiet, and
my solitary steps swirl sand
into tiny tornadoes.
At the water’s edge, a heron
shrugs winged shoulders.
Slate blue feathers match
semi-circle clouds
lined up in the sky,
like my high-heeled shoes
in the closet.
He lopes off toward the bay
on spindly yellow legs,
his awkward gait tracing
a graceful, gradual arc—
as if he’d eased a seam
around a difficult curve.
