The constant Heron

Stands in the same spot ever morning

Often going into himself

A skeleton in his wings

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 daggling thing.

I decided not to walk Abbey Graveyard today

There is too much death around me

My soul is filled with light

And I want to walk among the living

And not the dead.

I have seen

Too many pass

Pass my window

Far too many

And within a short time

They are gone

And are no more.

I empty my mind of figures

And fill it with prayers

I walk the avenue

Guarded by beech and chestnut

Over golden leaves

Through the pathway of the daffodil

That would outdo Solomon.

I empty my mind of figures

And fill it with prayers

I walk the avenue

Guarded by beech and chestnut

Over golden leaves

That would outdo Solomon

A Heron stands motionless on the bank

Its head sunk into its shoulders

Ready to pounce

Eyes firmly on the shallow water

Not minding passers by

A new leaf in a book is about to be  written.

A blackbird sings

     His song perfected

     after a million rehearsals

     Brought to flame on this April day

     A hawk that stood on air

     Cast a beady eye

     And robbed our inheritance