Ungainly flapping. Only in mercy so thick could I take flight. Heavy heron wings, moving slowly—why would any flock of birds follow? Yet I fly to you unconcerned. By you, with you, and in you, I dive into the water, having glimpsed a fish and heard: “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” No owl, I; but after wisdom-prowling long before the dawn, I turn toward sleep, open my beak, and the unmusical cry sounds forth. You still my mind. As the gentle cloud of peace comes over me, you still my fear of an ugly stirring as a dream takes wing. Friendly universe that embraces the fledgling! I will trust my self to this stillness. And now–a new and timely now–alert, refreshed, and calm, I give thanks for the night’s rest, and feed your young.

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