BLUE FISHERMEN
            Dave Ruslander
                c. 2000
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I watch blue fishermen wade in the James
their patience eternal.  Nine Great Blues
line across churning rapids to stand
in eddies, on rock edges, or brave white water.
Elongated 'S' shaped necks end in rapier beaks
angled down. Eyes unblinking, they wait.

A sudden thrust at a target invisible
and a fish squirms on his foil.
With aplomb and grace Great Blue
tosses the fish, catches his meal, and swallows.
Heron sated, folds his neck against his back,
closes eyes, and rests.


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