A shimmer of holiness

The heron kneels in the morning light
as if to kiss the ground,
but I know it's just to feed himself.
When will I learn
that I, too,
must kneel in humble reverence;
that I might,
in watching patiently
the river as it flows beneath my feet
observe a shimmer of holiness,
reach out and grasp
and feed upon
that brief glowing moment;
delighted and nourished by the tickle
as it slides down my hungry throat.


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