The heron wades slow

silent in the shallows

waits  perfectly, patiently still. 

To a fish, their legs 

appear mere sticks 

not a spear looming. 

Their stillness reveals

motion below

their eyes fixed wide

crooked neck coils

snaps

pierces water’s edge.

And the fish

is no more,

and the heron is fed. 

My chest

hollows

for the fish.

Yet my soul drawn to the

Heron. How they possess

only themselves.

Tim Murphy (he/him) is a disabled attorney, environmentalist, and poet who lives in Portland, Oregon. His writing explores the natural world, disability, and the climate crisis. Tim’s poetry is featured in CERASUS Magazine, Remington Review, Writers Resist, and The Long Covid Reader, a book coming out this fall. You can find him on Instagram and Twitter (@brokenwingpoet).