heron

he shook his feathers, waiting in the ripples of
the river created by his toes, waiting for
the perfect breeze to raise him higher above his foes
and once the sun grows and tugs the colors
of purple and pink across the skies, within a wink
he’ll land and sink into the darkness
as the day softly dies

____
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: prudent

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