River’s sentinel, fish-focused,
sly pundit of the piscatorial
stalks the bank on stilts,
auditing suspect bubbles
on a taut tide of water.
More icon than bird,
he folds back his wings and waits;
history in hunched shoulders,
he’s a seer recalled from Egypt
and herald of things to come.
He enters the painting
and blends into landscape,
kinked neck tensed for action
until it’s straightened at speed
to stab and tweeze a fish.
Heron soars on a nonchalant flap,
primeval wings clattering
like a cracking great canvas,
stroking the air, stick legs dangling,
slowly, ponderously, in flight.
Jan Green