A Heron Green

with Reka Jellema

a beckoning
to hither come
a heron green
rose from a swamp
and sounding frogs
a song commenced
a tune to raise
the dead, a humming

like the drone
of singing bowls
besieged the heavens
a peasant moon
peeked
from the gathered
snow clouds, dark
and loud

I have slowed
slowed
as an icicle slows
my blood
far south
of ponderance
and pooled
unmoving

my vapour breath
my emissary
my beckoning in cloud
my heron green
to penetrate
the ceiling
I have made

the frigid cumulus
covering
stilling this
first snow
coating
the fresh grave
the dead remain
prone, stone
pillows for
their heads
their names
a beckoning

Written with Reka Jellema