I’ll accept the blame for this.

Yesterday evening I was taking a shower outside, while a heron looked on.
She was trying to appear distracted
but she would move her beak in circles,
not quite “come hither.”
If I had said anything she would have been embarrassed.
It’s gentler not to notice, maybe to gesture toward the ripples,
which are minnows trying to hide in the creek.

When I say I can accept blame, what I mean
is that I would prefer if people left without speaking,
taking the boardwalks but leaving the dunes.
Even early, I imagine Adam,
eyes forward and beginning to sweat.
I am left in peace to spread shells like a bazaar,
stuttering offers to passers
who tend kindly to keep their eyes on the coast,
though I keep half-wanting them to refuse outright.