Bridge dance

by Grant Shimmin

It’s a dance of steps so delicate
and tentative it barely seems to move
Mine marking the softening of the frost
on the bridge’s age-worn timbers
and the danger of putting my partner to flight
The heron’s marking mine and the movement
of morsels unaware in the still shallows
Its glance up freezes my icy shuffle
long enough for it to thrust two shallow stabs
that shatter the glassy surface unsuccessfully,
but only briefly, as it slows, waiting
on the fishes’ forgetfulness,
cocked front leg and rapier bill poised in parallel.
Grateful for the forward slide the reset allows,
I’m doubly so to be in place for a replay
rapid in its sharp brutality
then slowed slightly for the two-gulp swallow
now imperfectly captured on my phone
It seems this dance is over
and in my head I bow deeply in gratitude
If my partner is grateful for my caution there’s no evidence
Just a sweep, wide-winged, imperious
across the stilling surface of the pool

Grant Shimmin is a South African-born poet long resident in New Zealand. He counts humanity, nature, and their relationship as poetic passions. He has work published/forthcoming at Roi Faineant, Does it Have Pockets?, The Hooghly Review, underscore_magazine, Amethyst Review, Dreich and elsewhere.