Sonnet 20

Bliss is writing poetry,
like a runners high, a gift,
placing the last puzzle piece.
How we love what is unseen,
how we love what is seen,
is poetry still and in motion.
I peered from the forest around
Langton Lake for my dear egrets,
patiently searching for their
flash of whitest white.  Near
my walk's end, I spotted one
gliding above the trees, veering,
falling, and landing in shallow water
directly in front of me.  Poetry!