Great Blue Heron

Watch the mirror-top,
catch what you can,
Great Blue Heron
standing on straight, re-bar,
stalks of marsh grass legs,
prehistoric, as still as the Stone Age,
waiting for silver
to dart into range,
strike without rage,
cold, spring-loaded kill,
no feeling, no meaning,
nor malice,
smooth as an arrow
slices the afternoon,
the epitome of cool,
but not too hot,
control - complete,
swallows its shiny meal
in a quick flick of beak,
masterful, succinct, savant,
finishes the flourish
on strong, sturdy wing beats,
glides out of range
into sun set mystery.