On the river's edge

A heron's silhouette,
Inverted teardrop, waits,
Raises a poignard,
Stabs.
Daylight shatters
Every second as the wind runs
Across the water; it
Scatters
As off a swordblade
Damascened
With spring sunshine.
And the wild bird
Kills and kills again as I
Cross the bridge.
I cannot defend myself.
If I am overwhelmed
I will fall
Into the steely water,
But I cannot stop
Walking forward into today.
The bright steel of morning
Glitters
And the heron unfolds herself and
Slowly flaps away
Certain and strong as
Hecate.