I came across a heron on the Boyne today and had to stop and admire its poise. I got a few snaps before I'd come too close for comfort. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago.
Heron on the Boyne
Icy
chill between the bridges
funnelled
on the river’s face
surprises
snap-blast
impacting
on thought.
Before
he stood wizened
with
wispy beard
on
the banks
above
the reeds and rushes
and
I contemplative of his stance
found
solace in shared solitude.
Here
there is no weight
that
is not borne
in
conversation water-reflected
and
I-to-I expel fear,
time’s
herald and child
wallowing
before the flight.
Órla
Fay
