Our Kingfisher

by lonewolfpoetry


You took me down to that quiet stretch of river

which barely deserves such a name,

especially in that parched midsummer month.

You held your finger to your lips

and with a sharp upward twitch of your

straggly eyebrows conveyed to me your boyish pleasure.

We clumsily glided to our lookout position

by the stagnant pond, its oozing stench kept heavy

by the still, stifling air. Our silence engulfed me,

my young years knew no such patience.

My mind drifted towards more immediate pleasures

when a slight dig in my side drew my gaze

to our site of interest.

Resting on a quavering bough was a tiny blaze

of azure and saffron focused on the trickle below.

A pure inferno of tightly bound flames.

His oversized head should have been comical

on such a fragile frame

but his majesty and splendor command only awe.

You and I, his willing servants.

Those brief, sweet seconds were crushed

when our regal huntsman sensed our incursion

and startled us with a swift slice through the air.

His shivering wings, too quick for our eyes,

took him beyond our enchanted stares.

I understood his nobility to be deserved,

a virtue rightfully endowed.

You looked down at me, your eyes as bright as his

and our wonderment passed between us soundlessly.

My rural rite of passage passed.


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