|
This grey heron is a solitary bird,
and coots, ducks, and passers-by
are external to its focus.
Like a tuning fork, its legs
resonate with stillness, the lake's surface
oblivious, as much the fish
beneath, which twitch
in their own perfect camouflage.
The master form
that tracks their movements
is innocuous, for all its appetite
for life, fish life.
And that, alas, is the deceit
that in nature
is so axiomatic: it is not
a shock
when heron stabs,
and fish not wriggle free. |
