Heron Addict

The first time that I caught your beady eye,
I was sat by the riverside, reporting live
From the heats of the Duck Duck Goose contest.
You were a heron and a half,
You were simply the best.

You were the kind of bird that makes a man swoon.
Your bill stood proud like a shapely harpoon.
Still, serene, with legs that went on and on and on...
Then the splenetic swans and joggers came along,
Shatt'ring the fragile silence of the cool blue dawn.

In a trice you were out of sight,
Yea verily, you took flight
As if some yokel had kicked yer.
There was no time to take your picture.
Sweet bird, did you know you'd speared my heart?
Return to me, let's make a brand new start.
I'd trade my prized pic of Morten Harket
To take you on a date to Billingsgate Market.

Heron, it's my wife and it's my life*

You're a cut above the boorish moorhens and coots.
There's a prescription somewhere in a branch of Boots
With my name on it...

B.R. 10/10/2012

 Grey Herons waiting for a fish market to close in Amsterdam

 

 

* courtesy of Lewis Allan Reed