The Pond Heron
The dead don't write
but my cousin's letter arrives three days
after he's blown away by some kid
in his own platoon.
Maybe another Georgia boy
who's never been so far from home
so scared he shoots at anything
moving in shadows.
The letter feels light
for my cousin's voice.
He speaks of sheer petals rising
out of muddy fields
spreading before the sun.
Of a copper heron in shallow water
who dips his black-tipped beak
to spear his prey.
Chella Courington is a writer and teacher. With a Ph.D. in American and British Literature and an MFA in Poetry, she is the author of six poetry and three flash fiction chapbooks. Her poetry appears in numerous anthologies and journals including Non-Binary Review, Gargoyle, Pirene's Fountain, and The Los Angeles Review. Originally from the Appalachian South, Courington lives in California with another writer and two cats.