I worry about the herons and egrets in a nearby pond which in recent summers has posted warnings about the toxic water as the dog days of August emerge.
Denizens
An egret paraglides from autumn's sky,
descends to a pea-green liquid scullery.
His ally, the heron, already on scene,
swivels his neck like a scout decoding
shadows.
They hide among the reeds, freeze
motionless as marble at footfalls.
They share a common enemy: humans.
But marksmen no longer hunt the birds.
Now, people marvel at these long-legged
beauties, then unwittingly undermine them
with runoff from treated lawns.
Neither crane can read the language:
warnings about toxic algae in the pond.
Desperate for rations, they return
to ransack this back kitchen.
When these two finally head south, behind
the lines, and can eat what they like,
they may find Charon cooking their food.
Thanks to their summer's deployment.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
