Gilbert Byron

THE BALTIMORE EVENING SUN

Heron's early morning flight

Quiet trilling of birds,

Greeting the day

Marsh grasses waving a salute

You are free

No confinement of frail body or

veiled sight

Maryland's own solitary drummer

Calling us to stop, look and listen

To the treasure of the Chesapeake

Your words live on

Your spirit flies with the heron,

the osprey.

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