Early morning fogs
   rose from the river.

He waded through an eddy of
   warmth swirling slowly 
between bank and goal,
a heavily wooded island, 
   cloud hidden,
Spanish mossed limbs 
   penetrating
   opal curtains.

He felt time evaporate
   a hundred million years
as he entered the past earth.
and knew the river damp smell 
   was once familiar
   to a dinosaur,
that nothing had changed,
that his particular world's
   sights and sounds 
   were truant.

Reaching shore, he had
   no idea how close he was
   to the nest of guarded eggs,
as she burst forth through fog,
   the Great Blue Heron, 
screaming in the 
   very rasp of God,
   a cry so terrible
that he became a 
   wee twitchy creature, 
   scurrying to evade
scaly winged masters
   of this new world.