adamdaniel

The Heron Gather

The water strikes with vigour,
Blown from out the darksome sky,
The looming night,
O’er birds in white,
The sense of danger high.

The heron gather meekly,
As the firmament sends wrath,
In shrouding mist,
As storms persist,
The stream a ghostly bath.

The birds converse in torment,
Protestations of alarm,
The thunder peel,
In clouds of steel,
A spectre wreaking harm.

There’s solace in communion,
And the heron merge in love,
Their gentle kin,
Perturbed within,
By booming blasts above.

The water is so gentle,
Speaking sibilants in grace,
The rage on high,
Would horrify,
But love can fear erase.