I have the patience of a heron
that stands in the ditch
as though it grew like rushes

Focused and intent
majestic as the stag
still as the oak trunk
waiting for the frog
or mosquito fish

My hands are tied by my own will
but still twitching, connected to my heart
as I watch the wind in the long grass
and seek the picture I will share in the morning

Warm hands, willing as spring buds
Strong arms, ready as tree limbs
Steadfast heart, eager as flame

These hands
these arms
this heart
alive and warm

These gifts are all I have to give

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