I’m sorry

you were not beside me

to see.

But then,

knowing the gentleness in thee,

you might not have enjoyed watching

Death

come so meticulously.

Our little pond out back,

a dark mirror

by the pines reflection

in the vertical sun

and not a breeze blown ripple.

Stalking Blue Heron

making a Siameese reflection

so intricate

as to become

an old African Wildebeest mask

made of itself,

a pair of twisting horns

and evil eyes.

Glued to the surface.

Still.

Immovable

as a jagged Kilimanjaro

until it

struck!

And something died.

Swallowed down the long throat

in a violent neck-jerk wiggle.

And without even a moments

pause,

to say,

something…

moved on to its next

assassination .

As inevitable as

one o’clock.