The Heron

Cement is lashed to a frenzy by showers of rain, Envelopes sigh like fans at the postman's knock, Piglets scream like kettles As the mash bin announces its coming; Beads grow incandescent beneath a chandelier, And have you noticed how cash-cards Twitch when tills start to ring? Gatherings, meetings, events, Have their effects In crowded rooms. There are definite modes of behaviour. Definite ways of being in the world. I learned mine From the heron I saw By the long pool last midsummer. Shifting from one leg to the other, I watch the silver river of trays flow by. I dip and sip, Dip and sip On the edge, on the cool periphery. Conversations rise like mayflies, Drift in snatches over the busy rooms. The door is near The yellow evening Waits outside like a taxi; Waits outside with the trees All rustling green