Heron

Little wonder that the stickleback and minnow
do not detect the solitary heron stalking them;
poised like a Masai, on one leg
master of stillness, a shadow in the waters edge
camouflaged as branch or a clump of reeds.

Along the lanes, by-ways and tracks
the regular traffic passing by - brook-side, over bridge and ford
on foot, hoof or wheel
despite canny, country senses or ornithological tunnel vision
aware of the heron hang-outs and likely haunts
-the rocky pools or iris-edged sedge -
catch no glimpse or clue
….until, of a sudden...out of the corner of the eye
there it goes, creaking away under the overhanging trees
as if the air itself was bumpy terrain
as if its engine was about to stall.

How come such a sleek and stream-lined creature
becomes a cumbersome bundle of flapping rags
when it hoiks itself skyward?

The haste and surprise of its escape suggests it is either shy,
of a nervy disposition, a constitutional misogynist.

Or, it is nature’s own hermit.
Any intrusion or disturbance to its contemplation
alarm of fish or frog
even, ruffle of the the air-waves
spoils its lone peace;
it doesn't make a stand or wait and see
but summarily removes itself
dismissing who or whatever violated that moment
out of hand, without arguement or condition.

Just goes.