Betty spoke of God’s face seen through puddles
A mirror on the way from bad to good
In puddles of my overgrown troubles
There is little ebb and flow, air and food
Yet each morning and evening without fail
Fishing for frogs or what few fish proceed
To urge their seed, Great Grey Heron, female
Greets me quietly now that we both re-seed
In this habitat, earthly bowel, watery womb
We find sunrise beside this dying pool
God's fingerprint in a remnant agave in bloom
Hope in this adult education school
This promise: So long hearts beat and blood flows
Heron and I will sing of tomorrows
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