A grey heron was obstructing my path
In the middle of the summerly
Woods smelling of green and air
I remember it was near a zoo,
A misplaced augury perhaps –
The heron appeared a few steps in front of me
Out of the blue,
On the soft organic narrow forest trail,
A stone with
It seemed giant and gloomy and alien
In the waterless woody drought.
Solely for you I managed to walk past it
In fear, shaking, trembling but
The heron didn’t move
One bit –
What became of it,
I don’t know,
I didn’t attempt to take the auspices.
When I told you of my bravery,
You were proud of me and
My heart was bubbling lava.
But now, creeping from the depth of my
Just before I fall for a warm foggy dream,
I feel like the heron has reappeared –
It’s sitting in the dark for sure,
I can’t see it but
Suddenly scary again.
A barrier, stone-grey and frightening
Insuperable without bait.
An unfavourable omen?
An obstacle, without question.
Christina Hennemann is a writer and photographer based in the West of Ireland but originally from Germany. At the age of six, she began writing her first English songs and poems with the help of a German-English dictionary. Since then, her English skills have much improved, she hopes. Her most recent publications include orangepeel, Maythorn Mag and The Sunshine Review.