Blue Wing

Grass enfolding brackish water 
the dog himself, immersed 
against my will 
	he holds, 
	my pause ... 
Sweet, reflecting disbelief that this is spring 
and sends waves 
to the other, arcing shore.

I am jealous of his zeal for it 
I have won little in my eyes 
but here, a heron, forsaking mate 
comes straight 
out on the edge 
	from what she held 
	until we broke 
then cleared all sight of me ....

A simple flight, a moody undulance, 
blue swallowing of sky ...

and I imagine earth slipping 
out, 
on our way home, dog taking lead 
never looking around 
for the ripples off his back 
for the floating assignation 
	my trust, 
	his path ...

A shifting of the higher ground.

Pam Gebhard's questions:

Is it clear by the end of poem, that I have surrendered something of my human self, to the dog leading me home?

I had one reader tell me that "I am jealous" and "I have won little in my eyes" is confusing. Does it seem too strident?

The heron taking off, third line on, second stanza, the choice of short words seems natural for "the action", do they work or is it too much work to read them, to get her taking off?

Suggestions, comments, please? - Pam