Heron Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I love the way the sun
Shines on your shoulders
Like off the wings of an aeroplane

When you stand there on
The side of the road like a river
Always moving,
Though you are the calm heron
Unperplexed, waiting,
Noticing reality
In the midday tide acquiescing
To your eyes,

The shade and the light
Like passing freckles
Hurdling torpidly
Across your wrist watch

A still-life with subtly violent
Changes,
In the palm-grove’s heat
You chew your gum
And wait for the bus.