When bog water steals her wings’ day-smell
Comes the night heron to roost on the marshy night.
I have often caught her lost in the dim orb of moon
Got a whiff in the wind of her fishy smell
That says the night is not yet old
Her feathery dreams still unripe,
But like a philosopher in thought shy
The winged wonder would at my slightest hint fly
Leaving on my homebound way a trail
Till the moon reclines the night turns pale.
I wonder what thinks the night heron
In the stillness of the boggy night,
Is it her day’s catch and contentment
Or some way to carve a place in the starry firmament!
Nice poem depicting the heron's encounter with the poet. Enjoyed reading.
Nice poem depicting the heron's encounter with the poet. Enjoyed reading.
The winged wonder would at my slightest hint fly Leaving on my homebound way a trail The alarmed flight of a bird at our sight is beautifully described in these lines....! The feathered aerial travellers are always a joy to behold! Another enjoyable read! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful sentiment of a wonderful sight, it was almost as if you traced the words from a picture. Although I've never seen Herons as attractive birds you gave this one a grace and majesty that I have never seen. Well done