Heron Poem by Martin Moore

A darkening sky begins to cry
falling leaves paint abstract art
on an october coloured river

Motionless
beneath an overhanging bank
a steel grey heron stands
a lone sentinel on his stone plinth
watching and waiting

The cold rain forms pearls on ruffled plumage
a shake of his head dicards accumulation
without the loss of concentration

In my roving mind
I am a ten year old boy
school green tie
shirt sleeves and short pants
standing to attention
awaiting Erskine Childers
guard of honour, O' Riada mass

Storm clouds pass
while lost in retrospection
suddenly in a flurry of feather and pearls
a lightening strike

His beak ajar, a salmon parr
is deftly turned from side to slippery side
head first down the gullet slide

Motionless
again both it and I
half afraid of breathing
and miles from anywhere
beneath mute meandering skies
we share this act of being.