The blue heron dances with her reflection on the long brown water, south to north under a dull, refracted light cast from a sky full of rain heavy clouds. As I walk onto the wharf, a common grackle glides to a halt, nods– spreads wings to the wet breeze.

The last song playing on the radio is still singing in my head. A dark hymnal that hums of the Ohio River Valley Gothic, and I see a mirror of me in long brown water.

(* inspired in part by a song by Bowerbirds)