Centurion (The Observer)

His point of view:

His lineage is Quixada or Quesada,
His plumage blue grey.
With armored beak thus the great heron
The grand fisherman
The hunter.
In the tall reeds where bass feel safe
The heron stalks.

My point of view:

This comedic error on stilts of sticks and string,
Lug nuts, recycled bags, rotting newspapers:
Spare parts.

Their point of view:

Oblivious to danger they glide
Among the reeds
To nibble insects and make bubbles

While above, the creature stops.
His neck arches, arches back, his arrow beak points.
Wait, wait, tense, wait. Pupils dilate.

The hunter, now perfect, now Mithras,
Shudders and chokes it down.
With gills gasping for water, its eyes shocked
That its purpose is not to swim forever
But to be sucked into this horrific cave of muscle.

God’s point of view:

This heron is my prime number, my Quexana.

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