green heron on half submerged tree waiting for red eared fish, pushes his neck long, slowly until he strikes and has his fish.
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the fish, at a clear disadvantage, a bulge in the birds throat moves down as swallowed. the heron rests raises a leg fans his wing feathers and patiently keeps looking.
you walk tool in hand to test the strength of the soil. smell the wet of the air and plan perfectly the felling of the sunflowers.
i watch you wait, standing with sythe and when the moon says so you strike and you have your wish.
