The Constant Heron about:blank The Constant Heron WATCHING THIS HERON WATCHING A Heron WATCHING THIS HERON WATCHING A Heron Stands in the same spot ever morning Often descending into himself A skeleton in his wings no A half staved thing All skin and bones Docile Sleeping With the patience of JOB Then suddenly alive Needles the still water in the canal Pounces Takes a fish out And swallows the dangling thing. Share this: poemPrintTwitterFacebookLinkedInRedditTumblrPinterestPocketTelegramWhatsAppEmailMastodonLike this:Like Loading... By timmyconway poet View all of timmyconway's posts.
