Blue Heron Late November

The corn is harvested.
Cut stalks stub into the cold rain.
And you, blue heron, though a tall bird,
though ancient as the earth, seem small
gliding over the flesh-colored field.

Your papery lungs inhale
gray wind. Edging the field,
fickle twists of dark trees dwarf you,
your winter plans all but lost
in this immense slate sky
inscribed by your many blue quills.

Words disappear before we can translate,
before we can wave our small goodbye.


Colette Tennant

About Colette Tennant

Colette Tennant is an English Professor at Corban University where she teaches creative writing and literature. She also teaches poetry workshops throughout Washington and Oregon. Her poems have appeared in Rosebud, Dos Passos Review, Natural Bridge, Global City Review, Southern Poetry Review and others. She has poetry forthcoming in Encore, Orpheus II, and Gold Man Review. Her poetry book, Commotion of Wings, was a finalist in Main Street Rag’s 2009 contest and was published in January of 2010 as an editor’s choice.
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