by Marshall Jamison

So very softly the swift shafts of darkness
invade the fading sunlight.
In shadow, the inner leaves of the orange tree shiver
slightly, anticipating the quick loss of warmth
At the sun’s decline into the dark blue lake.
I hear the distant cry of a seagull flying Nestward
Through the drone of a tiny single engine plane
Seeking sanctuary as well. And my wife,
Ever thoughtful and loving, lights the single lamp
Over my head and suggests with that gesture
That I’d better come in.

by Marshall Jamison

Uninvited but not unwelcome, the tall blue Heron
We call a friend dropped by,
Circled over us once or twice and landed, stiff-legged
Out of the afternoon sky.
He is a popular visitor who comes often for
His lake shore snacks
Of frogs, toads, wriggling water snakes, which
With evident pleasure, he attacks.

But best of all, the fare he seems to truly savor
Are fat bass, small and tender and rich in flavor.

For you see, his gourmet taste has made me
A believer too
And so now when I can catch a batch or even
Only one or two,
I swallow them quickly as I’ve seen him do.

Oh, not raw but boiled, fried or brewed
Swimming in a bubbling stew.

A fine fish dinner, these bass are in a class
Without compare,
So if one day you’d care to share
The lake’s largess with us,
Hop a plane, grab a train, perhaps a Greyhound bus
Even an Indian canoe could bring you too.

We’re almost sure that if you do arrive
The tall blue Heron will greet you
With a fishy welcome
And a very high five.