Heron, Early
1Before the town has found its keys,
2before the first bus coughs awake,
3the heron stands in the shallows
4like a question no one asked aloud.
5It does not hurry. It has learned
6the pond will keep its promises
7to anyone who waits: a silver flick,
8a ripple folding back on itself.
9I am late, as always, running
10with my backpack thumping like a second heart,
11and I would stop—I tell myself
12I would stop—if there were time.
13But the heron has all the time
14the morning holds, and spends it
15the way my grandmother spent coins,
16one careful piece at a time.
17Tomorrow I will leave five minutes early.
18Tomorrow I will stand at the rail
19and learn what stillness costs,
20and what it buys.