Omens

Idling along, wondering whether I oughtn’t

soon to go back, I saw a little ahead

a single dogrose bush by the river’s edge

pushing its sprays out over the dark smooth water,

marking my place to turn.

I stood beside it.  Wrinkling fading petals

dropping from old flowers, only a few new ones

coming in their place.  Still, though, starred with beauty.

I leaned out, looking down at the dark reflection—

bush in the smooth water, precise but darkened,

light green leaves dark, and strangely the flowers

(the light bright white and pink) invisible.

The dark unflowered bush was beautiful

but we read omens according to our mood

and mine was sad today.

I turned away

and another omen rose in front of me:

a heron, lifting its wide grey angled wings,

its long neck out, rising into slow flight.

The sight of a heron always lifts my heart,

even today when the heart might seem too heavy

even for a heron’s wings, lifts it a little.

Accept the omen, heart.

Rejoice in beauty, rejoice in happiness,

accept their transience

and never mourn their passing until they’re past.