National Poetry Day Heron Poem by Sally Evans

Washed wood picnic table,
oblong paving slabs,
splendid in dirty green grass
at the service station.
The duck waddles in - no surprise,
brown-pink in colouring.
Then the heron, quietly there
with his two shades of grey,
matching the pavement and table
looking for crumbs in vacant space.
Ignoring the orange peel,
accustomed to fishless rivers,
he approaches me.
I should have brought my bread from the car,
to thank him kindly for
the tame-heron-national-poetry-day
poem he has given me,
to write down on my
inedible paper.

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