I squinted and searched for the origin of the sound. And soon, a great blue heron in a spruce, I found. Moving away to allow it some space, another sound. I heard from across the cove and closer to the ground. It was another heron calling, or at least to be heard. When above my head appeared, yet another bird. Passing the spruce and gliding in, a bald eagle did rise. The majestic bird landed with grace before my eyes. Once in his perch, silence ensued, nothing dared move. Or so it seemed, but for me, my site to improve. All at once a splash from behind, and I turned to see. But nothing was there but ripples left for me.
Resuming my gaze the calm pierced masked in black. The loon appeared from below, after a snack. My masked playmate called another yards away. The eagle, or not, the loons wanted to play. Time stalled and rested with me there in the sun. Sitting still in nature, watching, I was having fun. My mind raced to the eras past, land minus flaw. And I wondered what I missed among all I saw. As self-imposed limits do, measurement moved me. I paddled in, slowly, so as to stretch time, there to be. The loons called across the water while the heron hid. The eagle cleaned his wings, and I smiled like a big kid. I left, wanting freedom for always, to just be. The heron, an eagle, a pair of loons, and me.
