I climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark;I wandered lonely as a cloud,from purple forest to golden sky;a thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim,and meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim.Cold water-mouths move and singand the night herons brood in their heronry like yoga masters.Tell me is there anything lovelier?I resisted the madContinue reading “A Cento: Herons at Sunrise”