Dark side of this moon

 

The egrets leave their mark in the mud

As if on the dark side of the moon

With me alone to witness their foot prints

Before the tides erase them

We are not allowed to leave

Anything behind

The silent stalkers in this remote existence

Struggling to find identity

Striding ever so carefully as to not

Upset the delicate balance of nature

Or show others of our kind

Where we might have strode

We stumble constantly over unforeseen things

The stones protruding from the mud

The carved hearts of strangers left

But we can not leave

If we are to remain invisible

Egrets strutting with long legs

And long memories

Seeking substance among

The debris

Fearful to eat too much

Always aware that the incoming tide

Can take it all away

At any moment.