Tag Archives: Michael Cole

to the memory of Mary Oliver Great Blue Heron—blue-gray watchman with a golden-eyed stare—lifts from the breakwater and in six more beats, slow-glides down-shore pulling along his spindly black legs. A shadow in the rushes. He has been likened to an ascetic preacher…in his death robes delivering his sermon to whatever small creature will listen. […]

He’s into his seventh century and on his thirteenth set of wings. Ashen gray frayed feathers. Leather straps cracked though he oils them every other week. Buckles rusted. He’s tired. Angels, I am told, don’t get sick, they just get tired. The affairs of humankind can be taxing and require a certain stamina which he […]